Original Ancient Poems: Spring Melancholy
Long has it been since Dongjun's infatuation, the flowers bloom in solitude, and the snow never ceases.
The empty void, few wild geese fly, the vast wilderness, butterflies are scarce.
In dreams, plum blossoms are clipped, staining the dust; in shadows, peach blossoms disorder the Jade Terrace.
Holding a lute, seeking friends, lost in three winding paths; brewing tea, reading the classics, the setting sun casts a slant.
At the edge of the field, drunk from the sorrow of Five Vices; climbing South Mountain, gathering wild grapes, costing iron shoes.
Ten thousand poetic hearts, transformed into trapped beasts, leaning towards ravines, choked with tears.
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