Qiang Village
Du Fu
I'm late in years, and only marking time,
Returning home, I find but little joy.
My darling son now will not leave my knee,
He's scared that I will go away again.
I remember when we used to seek the coolth,
And wound between the trees beside the pool.
The soughing and sighing of the north wind's strong,
I'm thinking of a hundred different worries.
At least I know the millet harvest's good,
Already I hear the grain press trickle.
For now I have enough to pour and drink,
I use it to get comfort near the end.
Du Fu
I'm late in years, and only marking time,
Returning home, I find but little joy.
My darling son now will not leave my knee,
He's scared that I will go away again.
I remember when we used to seek the coolth,
And wound between the trees beside the pool.
The soughing and sighing of the north wind's strong,
I'm thinking of a hundred different worries.
At least I know the millet harvest's good,
Already I hear the grain press trickle.
For now I have enough to pour and drink,
I use it to get comfort near the end.
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