The Text
春望
Du Fu (杜甫) · spring 757 CE · written in fallen Chang'an
The nation shattered, its mountains and rivers remain;
the city in spring, grass and trees grow deep.
Moved by the times, the flowers scatter tears;
grieving at parting, the birds startle the heart.
Beacon-fires have joined for three months on end;
a letter from home is worth ten thousand in gold.
My white hair, scratched, grows ever thinner —
soon it will not hold a hairpin at all.
Dotted phrases will answer. Click one to ask the Guide about it.
The Dialogue