Serendipitet
Du Fu

View in Springtime

The country is smashed, hills and rivers remain.
The city turns to Spring, plants and trees grow deep.

Moved by the moment, flowers splash tears.
Resentful of parting, birds startle the heart.

Beacon fires have lasted for three months now.
Letters from home are worth 10,000 in gold.

I’ve scratched my white hairs ever scarcer,
until none will be left to hold hairpins to head.

Translated by
Paul Rouzer

One poem fifty six translations