I ascent high on the sotried pavilion,
Below,mountains scatter in disorder;
The unclutivated plain extends
far in the light mist.
In the light mist,
Crows have returned to their mests;
The evening horm is heard in the dusk.
Burnt-out incense, left-over wine
my melancholy heart!
[The evening wind] hastens
The wu tong leaves fall.
The wu tong leaves fall,
Again the autumn becaomes beautiful,
Again the heart is lonesome.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem