On Passing Chia Yi's House in Ch'ang-sha
Here, where you spent your three years' exile,
To be mourned in Ch'u ten thousand years,
Can I trace your footprint in the autumn grass —
Or only slanting sunlight through the bleak woods?
If even good Emperor Wên was cold-hearted,
Could you hope that the dull river Hsiang would understand you,
These desolate waters, these taciturn mountains,
When you came, like me, so far away?
To be mourned in Ch'u ten thousand years,
Can I trace your footprint in the autumn grass —
Or only slanting sunlight through the bleak woods?
If even good Emperor Wên was cold-hearted,
Could you hope that the dull river Hsiang would understand you,
These desolate waters, these taciturn mountains,
When you came, like me, so far away?
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