穷吟之外百无功,鬓髪萧萧渐已翁。
自枕书眠听夜雨,偶披襟去纳雌风。
男儿未死身难量,豪杰虽贫气未穷。
缓步短筇谁会得,野花啼鸟夕阳红。
穷吟之外百无功,鬓髪萧萧渐已翁。
自枕书眠听夜雨,偶披襟去纳雌风。
男儿未死身难量,豪杰虽贫气未穷。
缓步短筇谁会得,野花啼鸟夕阳红。
除了吟咏这些贫寒的诗句,我一生再无其他建树;
鬓发稀疏花白,渐渐让我变成了一个老翁。
我枕着书本入眠,静听夜雨潇潇;
偶尔敞开衣襟,去接纳那轻柔的晚风。
男儿只要不死,一生的功业就难以估量;
豪杰即使身处贫困,志气也绝不会穷尽。
我拄着短竹杖缓步徐行,有谁能领会此中意趣?
唯有那野花、啼鸟与一片红艳的夕阳。
Beyond composing poor verses, I have achieved nothing else in life;
My thinning hair, now sparse and grey, slowly turns me into an old man.
I rest my head on books and listen to the night rain as I drift to sleep;
Occasionally, I open my collar to welcome the gentle evening breeze.
A man's worth cannot be measured until his life has reached its end;
A hero's spirit remains unbroken even in the depths of poverty.
Who understands my slow stroll with a short bamboo staff?
Only the wild flowers, singing birds, and the crimson setting sun.
在认知层面,将诗歌创作视为对抗虚无的治理。
感叹一生穷困,唯以吟诗为伴,年华老去
本诗为七言律诗,押平声韵。
东山书院编辑整理