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Richard R. Grant

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风举 寒衣
谁在 空庭
太 期待
风举 寒衣
听胡笳吟 这痴人曲
千行泪痕 无处话凉凄
The wind swiftly rises; [I'm dressed in] winter clothes.
[I] gaze fixedly at the scenery whose colors have faded.
Who is [in] the empty courtyard,
Weeping to [her]self [about] the dusk snow and the morning and the night.
It is because [I] held too much anticipation
That [my] heart has turned into dust.
The wind swiftly rises; [I'm dressed in] winter clothes.
[My] delicate hands become rosy clouds in the shadow of the lamp that casts cool light
Across that small road,
Past that big tree,
There is a lost courtyard.
Once upon a time, how many stories [had taken place there]?
The [passing] time [brings about] great changes and makes fun of [those stories].
A letter sent home [by you] rests slantedly next to the quilt.
Listening to the nomad flute sing this song about a sentimental fool,
A thousand trails of tear stains [are upon my face]. [I] have no one to whom [I can] speak of [my] sad and cold loneliness.
[With] the small ringing sounds of hoof bells, [I] embark upon a dream.
[Upon my] return, the moon [over] Chang'an is hazy.
[But] the city is empty and the dream has been shattered.