处士亡来二百年,故居牢落变祇园。
诗名长共江山在,寃气尚磨星斗昏。
台榭几人留好句,渔樵何处问曾孙。
昔时泉石生涯地,日暮寒云遶寺门。
处士亡来二百年,故居牢落变祇园。
诗名长共江山在,寃气尚磨星斗昏。
台榭几人留好句,渔樵何处问曾孙。
昔时泉石生涯地,日暮寒云遶寺门。
那位隐士去世已有二百年,
他的故居荒芜,变成了这座佛寺。
他的诗名与江山一样长久存在,
一股冤屈之气仍在磨蚀着星斗使之昏暗。
曾有几人在这台榭上留下佳句?
打渔砍柴的人又能去何处询问他的曾孙?
这里曾是他以泉石为伴的栖居之地,
日暮时分,寒云缭绕着寺门。
Two hundred years have passed since the recluse's death,
His former home, desolate, turned into a temple ground.
His poetic fame endures as long as the rivers and hills,
An aura of grievance still dims the stars and the Dipper.
How many left fine verses on these terraces and towers?
Where can fishermen and woodcutters ask of his descendants?
This was once the realm of springs and rocks where he lived his life,
At dusk, cold clouds coil around the temple gate.
空间认同随治理理念的周期而转换。
感慨历史变迁,昔日隐士故居已变为佛家寺院。
本诗为七言律诗,押平声韵。
东山书院编辑整理