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In days when I was young and didn't know the taste of sorrow I like to climb the storied tower, I like to climb the storied tower; To write the latest odes I forced myself to tell of sorrow.
Now that I understand the taste of sorrow altogether
Tr. A. Ayling & D. Mackintosh When young, I knew not the taste of sorrow, But loved to mount the high towers; I loved to mount the hight towers To compose a new song,urging myself to talk about sorrow. Now that I have known all the taste of sorrow, I would like to talk about it, but refrain; I would like to talk about it, but refrain, And say merely: "It is chilly; what a fine autumn!"
Tr. Lu Wu-chi Chinese text |
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Precious hairpin, broken, halved At the Peach-Leaf Ferry where We parted; darkening mist and willow shround the place. I dread to climb the tower-top stair; Nine days out of ten wind raves, rain torrents race: It breaks my heart to see the scarlet petals scatter one by one. All this with nobody to care Above it - who is there Will bid the oriole's singing cease?
From mirrored flowers that frame my face
Tr. A. Ayling & D. Mackintosh |
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