Poet the Wife of the Sub Prefect of Thanh Quan
Regrets for Old Thang Long
Why does it please the Creator to upset the human stage?
How many stars have fled, how many misty seasons gone!
The soul of autumn grasses haunts old paths where carriages once passed.
On ancient palace walls rays of evening float.
The stones still face the months and years
But in sorrow the water trembles, and shudders by these changes.
Present and past reflect in the ancient mirror.
My heart broken at the sight.
Why does it please the Creator to upset the human stage?
How many stars have fled, how many misty seasons gone!...
Poet the Wife of the Sub Prefect of Thanh Quan
Regrets for Old Thang Long
Why does it please the Creator to upset the human stage?
How many stars have fled, how many misty seasons gone!
The soul of autumn grasses haunts old paths where carriages once passed.
On ancient palace walls rays of evening float.
The stones still face the months and years
But in sorrow the water trembles, and shudders by these changes.
Present and past reflect in the ancient mirror.
My heart broken at the sight.
