Classic Poem

It breaks the heart, don't ask
the affairs of former dynasties!
Again I climb the Terrace of the Kings of Yüeh.
Here, where partridges sing,
grass turns green in the east wind
and flowers bloom in fading sunlight.

Sadly I whistle to myself;
this ancient kingdom of verdant mountains,
noble trees and rich moss.
The moon of those years —
lingering, lingering pale shadow —
from somewhere comes flying back.