宿府

قضاء الليل في الديوان / Spending the Night in the Office

In the cool autumn, the well-wutong tree is cold within the幕府;

I lodge alone in the river-city, the wax candle guttering low.

Through the long night, the horn's voice mourns as if speaking to itself;

The mid-sky moon shines bright—but who is there to gaze upon it?

Amid wind and dust that drift on, letters and news are cut off;

The passes and frontier walls are desolate, travel on land is hard.

I have endured a decade of wandering, a lonely, drifting life;

Now I force myself to settle, finding peace in but a single branch.