I searched everywhere, only to find desolation and utter desolation. The fickle weather of early spring is the hardest to bear. How can two cups of weak wine suppress the sorrow in my heart? A wild goose flew by, and as I grieved, I realized it was the same one I knew from my hometown. Yellow flowers lay scattered on the ground, so withered and pale; who could bear to pick them? I sat by the window, all alone; how could I endure until nightfall? Fine rain pattered on the paulownia trees; it was dusk, each drop falling gently. How can such a scene, such sorrow, be described in a single sentence? Voir plus