Winter Solstice
Dù Fǔ 712-770
Year after year on solstice day,
ever the wanderer;
Swift and sudden,
dead-end sorrows bogging me to death.
My features upon the Jiang--
I grow old by myself;
Locals' customs at world's end--
they're dear to each other.
Goosefoot staff: after snowfall,
I overlook Cinnabar Strath;
Sounding jade come since levee,
released from Purple Palace.
My heart is torn in this hour,
without one inch intact:
As my road errs,
in what place stay the 3 Realms of Qin?
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