Classic Poem

Snowstorm: At a Gathering at Chang Chu-fu's House, with Tzu-yeh Attending, We All Wrote Poems on This Subject—I Got the Ryhme-Word, “Hu”

All night, the west wind blows over the capital;
we meet as northern snow fills the avenues.
Trudging through mud, our horses rear back;
entering the room, cold clouds float by in strips!
It's been a long road, ten thousand miles—
we're startled by white hair.
Above a thousand mountains, the view to the south,
completely cut off.
We grieve for our Han soldiers, with no winter clothes
to wear,
still grasping their spears in the night,
protecting us against the barbarians.EnglishTsung Ch'en