Gently I stir a white feather fan,
With open shirt sitting in a green wood.
I take off my cap and hang it on a jutting stone;
A wind from the pine-tree trickles on my bare head.
Li T'ai-po
tr. Waley
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
idiot noob she lolkfsdajig; k.a