The mountain road is hard to travel, the sun now slanting down,
In a misty village, a crow lands on a frosted tree.
I'll not arrive before night falls, but that should not concern me,
Once I've drunk three warm cups, I'll feel as if at home.
I have fallen for Bai Juy's writing style. He writes in simple words and lines but there is such monumental richness in his verses and common experience between him and us in his tale, isn't there?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice imagery. One wonders what it feels like to be in that situation. Well-written. Thanks for sharing this quatrain.