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Full Version: The Old Dust (拟旧) - By Li Bai (李白)
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The Old Dust

The living is a passing traveler;
The dead, a man come home.
One brief journey betwixt heaven and earth,
Then, alas! we are the same old dust of ten thousand ages.
The rabbit in the moon pounds the medicine in vain;
Fu-sang, the tree of immortality, has crumbled to kindling wood.
Man dies, his white bones are dumb without a word
When the green pines feel the coming of the spring.
Looking back, I sigh; looking before, I sigh again.
What is there to prize in the life's vaporous glory?

拟古

生者为过客,死者为归人。
天地一逆旅,同悲万古尘。
月兔空捣药,扶桑已成薪。
白骨寂无言,青松岂知春。
前后更叹息,浮荣何足珍。


[Image: poem_libai_020.jpg]
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