At the Garden Gate 游园不值

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

齿

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At the Garden Gate

Ye Shaoweng (Song)

My nailed clogs miserably impair the mosses green,

When I tap long on the wattled gate which opens not.

But the spring tide cannot be shut within the garden,

Over the wall peeps out a crimson spray of apricot.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *