The Ninth of the Ninth Month, 409

Little by little autumn has come to an end

Chill, chill the wind and dew combine.

The creeping vines put out no blossoms now

Already courtyard trees have lost their leaves.

The crisp air scours summer's dregs away,

The distant boundary of heaven is high.

The sad cicada's cry is heard no more

Geese fy honking through the empyrean.

The myriad changes are all interconnected

Is human life anything but hard?

From earliest time all have had to die

The thought sets my heart inside afire.

How am I to do my feelings justice?

Unstrained wine will serve to cheer me up.

I do not know about a thousand years,

So I had better just prolong today.