The last spring
Zheng Chouyu
It's spring cold again this morning, the trees are quiet
An eagle flutters its wings in the drizzle
The scholar with the book on his shoulder is packing for a long journey
Looking up, the clouds and rain are moving westward one day
This journey is about to enter the last spring, ah, the last time
Jingchuang, who has been away for ten years, Zhu Mei, who is dazzled by the desire to win
After all, it's the day of separation, an empty wine glass
Perhaps I have already poured out my old topic for the coming day, ah, scholar
What will come out of your first stroke of light ink?
Is it the color of green moss? In that volume, is it the distant fame?
It's spring cold again this morning, and the trees are silent
An eagle flutters its wings in the drizzle
The scholar with the book on his shoulder stopped on the road
Blocked by jagged white flags and carriages
Ah, scholar who went to Wei, what surprised you?
It was just a procession of burials, just the death of sounds and colors
Is it because this procession is like a gust of wind?
So that the decline of glory will cause the chill of the living
The clouds and rain moving westward have stopped, and the glass of wine is filled with wine
Jing Fei thatched eaves, the spring cold gently brushed through
The scholar took off his books and smiled:
I am happy that I have suddenly realized my past obsession. From now on, ah, from now on
Over and over again, hum a pastoral tune