On the Twentieth Day

The place is calm, dusty worries clear;
after rain, the mountain takes on luster.
Pool pavilion hides a quiet place;
lute and wine express our yearning feelings.
Verdant, these flourishing spring woods,
bringing rest to our weary wings.
On the rock are inscribed words:
moss eats at them, they are hard to read ( pien ).
Translation: 
Language: 
Author of original: 
Ni Tsan
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.