Poetry

Pu Sa Man (song Zhangxian China)

Remembering you,2 mounted the wingding stairway.

Each year,the grasses before our lodge turn green.

The cdor of your robe when you left.

Turning back to wave,how your sleeves balloned deft.

The robe now must be worn.

Colors cannot last long.

I am afriaid that mirrored spring.

Cannot compete with bossoms newly sprung.