the last pain

the last pain
it was nothing
nothing, i say.
but it looked
like the rays
of a dying sun
weary of reason.
did i say reason?
oh yes.
then it is true.
it reaches out
but returns empty.

After I climb

After I climb the chill mountain's steep stone paths,

Deep in the white clouds there are homes of men.

I stop my carriage, and sit to admire the maple-grove at nightfall,

Whose frozen leaves are redder than the flowers of early Spring.

Du Mu