草堂风雨少睡眠,骨冷始觉非壮年。
水鸟长鸣声戛然,庭中栖鸦亦已翩。
老人清饿如龟蝉,起坐甚爱小窗妍。
一生宦游膏火煎,归来杜门气粗全。
人看虽不直一钱,知我自有穹穹天。
赋诗稿成弃不传,残钟断磬知谁编。
草堂风雨少睡眠,骨冷始觉非壮年。
水鸟长鸣声戛然,庭中栖鸦亦已翩。
老人清饿如龟蝉,起坐甚爱小窗妍。
一生宦游膏火煎,归来杜门气粗全。
人看虽不直一钱,知我自有穹穹天。
赋诗稿成弃不传,残钟断磬知谁编。
草堂在风雨中,我难以入眠,
骨头感到寒冷,才发觉已不是壮年。
水鸟长声鸣叫,声音戛然而止,
庭院中栖息的乌鸦也已经翩然飞走。
我这老人清瘦饥饿,如同龟与蝉,
起坐之间,很是喜爱小窗的明媚景色。
一生为官游历,如同被膏火煎熬,
归来后闭门不出,粗豪之气得以保全。
旁人看来,我虽不值一钱,
但我知道自己自有那广阔无垠的苍穹。
诗稿写成后便丢弃,不打算流传,
残破的钟磬之声,有谁知道谁来编纂记录?
The thatched hut in wind and rain allows little sleep,
Bone-chilled, I realize my prime years are no more.
Waterfowl cry long, their calls abruptly cease,
The crows roosting in the courtyard have also taken flight.
The old man, clear and hungry as a cicada or turtle,
Rises and sits, much fond of the small window's beauty.
A lifetime of official travels, fried in the grease-fire,
Returning, I shut my door, my spirit coarse yet whole.
Others see me as not worth a single coin,
But I know I possess my own vast, vaulted sky.
Poems drafted, then discarded, never to be passed on,
Broken bells and shattered chimes—who will compile them?
面对生命周期的衰退,体认个体存在的局限。
风雨草堂中感叹年老体衰、壮志难酬的孤寂与无奈。
本诗为七言古诗,押平声韵。
东山书院编辑整理