Grass and trees turn yellow, wild geese sweeping south.
Orchids bloom; chrysanthemums give forth their scent,
Pining for my Fair, O her, I ne’er can forget.
Barge-pavilions cross the Fenhe River,
Midway breaking snow-white ripples risen,
Flutes and drums keep time to rowers’ songs.
Reveling and feasting prelude sadness long
– How the youthful years are fleeting swift!
Why must old age come to all unbid?
（责任编辑:admin）
