165述怀

An Account of My Concerns Last year Tong Pass was broken, I have long been cut off from wife and children. This summer, as plants and trees grew tall, I escaped and got to flee west. In hemp sandals I met the Son of Heaven, both elbows showed through the sleeves of my clothes. The court had sympathy that I had made it alive, old friends were pained at how old and ugly I had become. With tears I received the Reminder’s post, our lord’s grace was great for those who fled. Though I could have gone off to my ramshackle gate, I could not bring myself to mention it right then. I sent a letter asking of three Rivers, not knowing whether my family survived. Since then I heard that all there had suffered calamity[1], massacred down to the chickens and dogs. In the mountains under a leaky thatch roof, is there anyone still leaning at the window? In the roots of a broken gray-green pine, the ground is so cold that their bones won’t have rotted. How many people escaped with their lives?— how can the entire household be together again? Mountainous land, a field for fierce tigers, my heart knots within, I turn my head. Since I sent them a letter, it has already been more than ten months. Now instead I dread that news will come— what feelings are there in this heart? The Han’s fate now for the first time rises anew, all my life I have been a lover of ale. I yearn deeply for that moment of joyous reunion and fear becoming a poor and solitary old man. 单词释义 [1] calamity [kəˈlæməti] n. 灾难; 灾祸;