战哭多新鬼,愁吟独老翁。
乱云低薄暮,急雪舞回风。
瓢弃尊无绿,炉存火似红。
数州消息断,愁坐正书空。
After the battle, many new ghosts cry,
The solitary old man worries and grieves.
Ragged clouds are low amid the dusk,
Snow dances quickly in the whirling wind.
The ladle's cast aside, the cup not green,
The stove still looks as if a fiery red.
To many places, communications are broken,
I sit, but cannot read my books for grief.
By Du Fu
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