In the third month of autumn
on a cold night
a lonely old man goes to bed peacefully
it is late, his lamp out already
untroubled, he sleeps well
amidst the sounds of falling rains
hot fragrant ashes in his fire pot
raise the warmth of his quilt and covers
when dawn comes, clear and cold
he's still sleeping, feeling comfy
he does not get up.
Outside the streets are covered
with red frosted leaves.
-rendering from a literal translation on the web:
Cold cold 3rd autumn night
Peaceful leisure one old man
Lie late lamp go out after
Sleep beautiful rain sound in
Ash long warm bottle fire
Fragrance increase warm quilt cover
Sawn clear cold not rise
Frost leaf full level red
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem