Tz'U No. 8 Poem by Li Ching Chao
Tz'U No. 8
To the tune of "Rinsing Silk Stream"
My courtyard is small, windows idle,
spring is getting old.
Screens unrolled cast heavy shadows.
In my upper-story chamber, speechless,
I play on my jasper lute.
Clouds rising from distant mountains
hasten the fall of dusk.
Gentle wind and drizzling rain
cause a pervading gloom.
Pear blossoms can hardly keep from withering,
but droop.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/26/2024 12:51:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
