乘尔亦已久，天寒关塞深。 尘中老尽力，岁晚病伤心。 毛骨岂殊众，驯良犹至今。 物微意不浅，感动一沉吟。
To My Sick Horse Du
Fu You
have been ridden long Through
cold, deep mountain pass. In
dust you toil along, Sick
at year’s end, alas! Is
your coat not the same As
others? Meek till now, you’re dearer than your frame. Can
I not be moved? How?
（许渊冲 译） |
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