桐风惊心壮士苦,衰灯络纬啼寒素。
谁看青简一编书,不遣花虫粉空蠹?
思牵今夜肠应直,雨冷香魂吊书客。
秋坟鬼唱鲍家诗,恨血千年土中碧!
Windswept wutong trees shocking and the warrior bitter,
Lights dimming, the Luowei weeps wintry cloth.
Who would read this bamboo-slip of a book?
And not let it be gutted and pulverized by moths.
Anxiety tonight has pulled my bowels straight,
Cold rain and sweet souls the versifier mourn.
Ghosts from autumn graves chant Bao Zhao’s poems,
Bitter blood over millenniums under the earth jasper green.
By Li He
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