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At the Double Ninth Festival
By William He

The dusk-burnt with the golden veins,
Smoldering along the flame,
Twilight's eyes gaze at blackish peaks.
At the fall of the fronds,
How the heart feels a sentimental now,
Cranes in a daze watching sunset glow.
Slimming ridge against the violescent sky scarfed with crimson throw,
Walking and hearing the harps of faded trees in the melancholy runes.
Chrysanthemums lying down on the ground,
Anyone could trample them out of shape anytime,
Undisturbed by a single moan of protest then.

Telling the wild geese flying,
It may be the time to go back.
Reminiscences cure all things,
Man alone through the breeze.
It is all sere and yellow,
The wind scatters the golden leaves.
Shadow of the cornus officinalis is lurking within the moods,
Rustling of the withered bracts is the constant music of gloom.
Maybe there is someone,
Whose arms with the infinitely force,
Holding back elapsed days.

满江红 甲かぶと辰たつ重じゅう阳
作者さくしゃ：何なに威い廉れん

天てん色しょく初はつ晴はれ，
渐清晰，
众峰冥めい悟さとる。
望もち远处、
大だい鹏恻怅，
鹤声幽かそけ愫。
一带红棉明远水，
半はん坡黄菊きく轻尘露つゆ。
又重またしげ阳、
何事なにごと惹伤怀，
谁私语。

飞雁倦，
期き返かえし翥。
浮叶掉，
萦心路ろ。
见东篱落魄らくはく，
满地花はな絮。
引步登高とうこう萸影走はし，
琴きん弦つる弹响秋あき虫ちゅう晤。
悄无言ごと、
搔首暮くれ烟けむり生せい，
凄すご迷去。