客裡看春多草草,總被詩愁分了。
去年燕子天涯,今年燕子誰家?
三月休聽夜雨,如今不是催花。
Qing Ping Le
Zhang Yan (1248-1314)
Flower-pickers
have dispersed,
My mood for sight-seeing is hashed,A sojourner’s viewing of the spring scenery can only be hasty,
My mind has always been taken up by poetic muse;
To world’s end last year’s swallows dismissed,
On whose houses will this year’s lie close?
Listen not to the night rains the third month amidst,
They can no longer heave flowers to flourish.
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