Spring Scene / Du Fu

Spring Scene by Du Fu

translated by George J. Dance

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Spring Scene

In broken land, the hills remain
And grass and trees are lush again.
My teardrops fall upon new flowers —
Birds flit — I pace and mourn the hours,
The flames of war now three months old,
A word from home more dear than gold.
I scratch my head; white hair too thin
To even hold a hairpin in.