Meandering above the asphalt streets,
The autumn moon lights vendor stalls;
From dawn to dusk the city beats
A song beyond Manhattan’s walls.
Across this land the Rocky Mountains
Conceal the trees and western sand,
But here another day begins,
Anxieties and troubles at hand.
The sky grows gray with tiny mist
That washes the building glass;
But clouds across the plains persist
To drizzle wet the newborn grass.
A clear breeze blows the fog away
To stretch it out like feathered sky;
Successive years of falling leaves, as gold-
Enameled flowers flitter out, around
The garden nook, with simple stories told
To fragrant crowds at play on dampened ground.
This time we sipped a cup of coffee cold
And spoke of speckled, thinning hair once brown;
A crow called out, as if a black-winged scold
That hits its mark and pulls us twisting down.
Through God we came from chaos to earth and skies,
And painted all that’s dark a color bright,
As child-like wonder shows through gleaming eyes
I shut my door, the sun begins to set.
In spring next year the grass will turn to green,
But if you’ll come back here, I know not yet.
Shān zhōng xiāng sòng bà，
Rì mù yǎn chái fēi。
Chūn cǎo nián nián lǜ，
Wáng sūn guī bù guī。
Literal Character Translation