卢纶: 晚次鄂州/ Lu Lun: A NIGHT-MOORING AT WUCHANG
卢纶: 晚次鄂州/ lu lun: a night-mooring at wuchang
晚次鄂州
卢纶
云开远见汉阳城, 犹是孤帆一日程。
估客昼眠知浪静, 舟人夜语觉潮生。
三湘愁鬓逢秋色, 万里归心对月明。
旧业已随征战尽, 更堪江上鼓鼙声。
a night-mooring at wuchang
lu lun
far off in the clouds stand the walls of hanyang,
another day's journey for my lone sail....
though a river-merchant ought to sleep in this calm weather,
i listen to the tide at night and voices of the boatmen.
...my thin hair grows wintry, like the triple xiang streams,
three thousand miles my heart goes, homesick with the moon;
but the war has left me nothing of my heritage --
and oh, the pang of hearing these drums along the river!
晚次鄂州
卢纶
云开远见汉阳城, 犹是孤帆一日程。
估客昼眠知浪静, 舟人夜语觉潮生。
三湘愁鬓逢秋色, 万里归心对月明。
旧业已随征战尽, 更堪江上鼓鼙声。
a night-mooring at wuchang
lu lun
far off in the clouds stand the walls of hanyang,
another day's journey for my lone sail....
though a river-merchant ought to sleep in this calm weather,
i listen to the tide at night and voices of the boatmen.
...my thin hair grows wintry, like the triple xiang streams,
three thousand miles my heart goes, homesick with the moon;
but the war has left me nothing of my heritage --
and oh, the pang of hearing these drums along the river!
晚次鄂州
云开远见汉阳城, 犹是孤帆一日程。
估客昼眠知浪静, 舟人夜语觉潮生。
三湘愁鬓逢秋色, 万里归心对月明。
旧业已随征战尽, 更堪江上鼓鼙声。
卢纶: 晚次鄂州/ lu lun: a night-mooring at wuchang
卢纶
a night-mooring at wuchang
lu lun
far off in the clouds stand the walls of hanyang,
another day's journey for my lone sail....
though a river-merchant ought to sleep in this calm weather,
i listen to the tide at night and voices of the boatmen.
...my thin hair grows wintry, like the triple xiang streams,
three thousand miles my heart goes, homesick with the moon;
but the war has left me nothing of my heritage --
and oh, the pang of hearing these drums along the river!
卢纶
a night-mooring at wuchang
lu lun
far off in the clouds stand the walls of hanyang,
another day's journey for my lone sail....
though a river-merchant ought to sleep in this calm weather,
i listen to the tide at night and voices of the boatmen.
...my thin hair grows wintry, like the triple xiang streams,
three thousand miles my heart goes, homesick with the moon;
but the war has left me nothing of my heritage --
and oh, the pang of hearing these drums along the river!