Expressing Thoughts in the Clear Autumn Skies--Bàn Dào Rén
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There are endless tales in the world; sorrow and joy coexist. Green grass is wet from the rain, while dark clouds cover the blue sky. The higher the buildings, the stronger the wind; the softer the sounds, the harder it is to stop crying. Strangers who forget each other in haste, and elders who linger on
It seems to be telling of a past sentiment.
Discussing affairs is a delightful pastime; only on the Double Ninth Festival does one realize that being granted a title is nothing but nonsense
Time has passed and cannot be recalled; I sit alone, melancholic, beneath the bright moon. The moon still retains its former glow, yet it’s hard to find the feelings of old among old friends.
How can one start feeling sad about autumn as early as the beginning of late spring?