重上危楼意豁然,倚栏检点旧山川。
身离城郭尘嚣里,眼到云天杳霭边。
只恐老松添岁月,长教修竹障风烟。
回思灯火书窗下,偻指如今六十年。
重上危楼意豁然,倚栏检点旧山川。
身离城郭尘嚣里,眼到云天杳霭边。
只恐老松添岁月,长教修竹障风烟。
回思灯火书窗下,偻指如今六十年。
再次登上高楼,心境豁然开朗,
倚着栏杆,一一检点旧日的山川。
身躯已远离城郭的尘世喧嚣,
目光却抵达云天相接的渺茫边际。
只担心那老松又增添岁月,
常让修长的竹林遮蔽风烟。
回想当年在灯火下的书窗旁,
屈指算来,如今已过去六十年。
Climbing the high tower again, my mind feels suddenly clear,
Leaning on the rail, I survey the old mountains and rivers.
My body has left the city's dust and clamor far behind,
My eyes reach the edge of sky and clouds, misty and vast.
I only fear the ancient pines add more years to their age,
And the tall bamboos forever shield the wind and mist.
Recalling the days by the lamp, beneath the study window,
Counting on my fingers—now sixty years have passed.
登高望远,在空间治理中重获对故土的认同。
诗人重登高楼,远眺旧日山川,心境开阔豁达。
本诗为七言律诗,押平声韵。
东山书院编辑整理