腊后冰生覆湓水,夜来云暗失庐山。
风飘细雪落如米,索索萧萧芦苇间。
此地二年留我住,今朝一酌送君还。
相看渐老无过醉,聚散穷通总是闲。
It's deep winter. There's ice spreading across the P'en River,
and when night comes, Lu Mountain fades into dark clouds,
snow falling, buffeted in the gusty wind and fine as rice,
scattering restless and windblown through shoreline reeds.
I've spent two years here, and this morning you start home,
sent off with a mere splash of wine. For us, facing ourselves
grown steadily older, that's plenty. It's all drifting idleness:
everything gathering and scattering, failing and succeeding.
By Bai Juyi
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