الرياح والمطر (لي شانغ يين)

الرياح والمطر (لي شانغ يين)

Wind and Rain

Li Shangyin

Bitter and sad, the song of the precious sword;

A stranger adrift, nearing the end of my years.

Yellow leaves, still battered by wind and rain;

A high tower, playing its strings all on its own.

New friends meet with the meanness of the world;

Old loves are parted from a happy fate.

My heart breaks at the wine of Xinfeng—

To drown my grief, how many gallons would it take?

Bitter and sad, the song of the precious sword,

A stranger adrift, nearing the end of my years.

Yellow leaves, still battered by wind and rain,

A high tower, playing its strings all on its own.

New friends meet with the meanness of the world,

Old loves are parted from a happy fate.

My heart breaks at the wine of Xinfeng—

To drown my grief, how many gallons would it take?