Tu Fu
Red camel-humps are brought them from jade broilers,And sweet fish is offered them on crystal trays.Though their food-sticks of unicorn-horn are lifted languidlyAnd the finely wrought phœnix carving-knife is very little used,Fleet horses from the Yellow Gate, stirring no dust,Bring precious dishes constantly from the imperial kitchen.. . . While a solemn sound of flutes and drums invokes gods and spirits,Guests and courtiers gather, all of high rank;And finally, riding slow, a dignified horsemanDismounts at the pavilion on an embroidered rug.In a snow of flying willow-cotton whitening the duckweed,Bluebirds find their way with vermilion handkerchiefs—But power can be as hot as flame and burn people's fingers.Be wary of the Premier, watch for his frown.
(4)
A SONG OF SOBBING BY THE RIVER
(Written to Music)
I am only an old woodsman, whispering a sob,As I steal like a spring-shadow down the Winding River.. . . Since the palaces ashore are sealed by a thousand gates—Fine willows, new rushes, for whom are you so green?. . . I remember a cloud of flags that came from the South Garden,And ten thousand colours, heightening one another,And the Kingdom's first Lady, from the Palace of the Bright Sun,
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