Author: Du Mu years: Tang
smoke cage cold water moon cage sand,
night park near Qinhuai restaurant.
business women don't know how to hate their country.
Across the river, they still sing "backyard flowers".
Shu Xiang
where is the temple of the famous Premier, in a deep pine grove near the City of Silk.
with the green grass of spring colouring the steps, and birds chirping happily under the leaves.
the third summons weighted him with affairs of state, and to two generations he gave his true heart.
but before he could conquer, he was dead, and heroes have wept on their coats ever since.
I heard that the loyalist troops recaptured Henan and Hebei
news at this far western station! The north has been recaptured! and at first I cannot check the tears from pouring on my coat.
where is my wife and my son? Little sorrow on their face., yet crazily I pack my books and poems.
You have to indulge in wine when singing songs in Bai Shou, on the green spring-day that starts me home.
back from this mountain, past another mountain, up from the south, north again-to my own town!.
going upstairs
flowers, as high as my window, hurt the heart of a wanderer, for I see, from this high vantage, sadness everywhere.
the Silken River, bright with spring, floats between earth and heaven, like a line of cloud by the Jade Peak, between ancient days and now.
though the State is established for a while as firm as the North Star, and bandits dare not venture from the western hills.
yet sorry in the twilight for the woes of a long vanished Emperor, talk to Liang Fu at sunset.
the second of five poems about historic sites
"Decay and decline": deep knowledge have I of Sung Yu's grief, romantic and refined, he too is my teacher.
sadly looking across a thousand autumns, one shower of tears, melancholy in different epochs, not at the same time.
among rivers and mountains his old abode -- empty his writings, deserted terrace of cloud and rain -- surely not just imagined in a dream?.
utterly the palaces of Chu are all destroyed and ruined, the fishermen pointing them out today are unsure.
the third of five poems about historic sites
ten thousand ranges and valleys approach the Jing Gate, and the village in which the Lady of Light was born and bred.
she went out from the purple palace into the desertland, she has now become a green grave in the yellow dusk.
her face! Can you picture a wind of the spring?, the soul of the moonlit night returns to the sky.
song of the Tartars on her jade guitar, telling her eternal sorrow!
Five Poems of Chanting for Monuments
zhuge's prestige transcends the earth, there is only reverence for his face.
yet his will, among the Three Kingdoms at war, was only as one feather against a flaming sky.
he was brother of men like Yi and Lu, and in time would have surpassed the greatest of all statesmen.
though he knew there was no hope for the House of Han, yet he wielded his mind for it, yielded his life.
spring
though a country be sundered, hills and rivers endure,
and spring comes green again to trees and grasses.
where petals have been shed like tears,
and lonely birds have sung their grief.
after the war-fires of three months,
one message from home is worth a ton of gold.
I stroke my white hair. It has grown too thin,
to hold the hairpins any more
"Sad for Chen Tao" Du Fu
A good son in ten counties of Meng Dong, whose blood is the water in Chen Tao Ze. There was no war in the wild, and
4, rebels died on the same day. The barbaric Hu bing arrowhead on the red arrows, the blood of the good people, singing people can not understand the Hu ge in Chang' an street in the drinking revelry.
People turn around and cry to the north, looking forward to the arrival of government troops day and night.
Volume 216_33 "Sad Qingban" Du Fu
Our army Qingban is at the East Gate, and it is cold to drink in Taibai Cave. Yellow-headed Xi 'er is heading west every day,
riding a bow several times dares to gallop. Mountain snow river ice field bleak, green is the white bone of beacon smoke.
there is no need to attach a book to our army, so don't be hasty until next year.
most of Wang Changling's poems are patriotic.
A trip to the frontier (1)
The moon was closed in the Qin Dynasty and the people on the Long March were not returned.
But make the Dragon City fly, and don't teach Huma to cross the Yinshan Mountain.
joining the army (xing) (1)
the bonfire is a hundred feet west of the city, and you sit alone in the sea breeze and autumn at dusk.
He plays the Qiang flute and Guan Shanyue, so he has no worries about Wan Li, the golden lady.
joining the army (the second part)
Pipa dancing with a new voice is always a matter of old feelings.
I can't stop worrying about it, and the autumn moon shines on the Great Wall.
Joining the army (the third part)
The elm leaves in Guancheng are early and yellow, and the ancient battlefield in clouds of sand is dusk.
Please go back to the army to hide the dust and bones, and don't teach soldiers to cry about the dragon shortage.