The Last Day Of Autumn 767

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Desolate view of Kuimem from Fengjie

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The Last Day Of Autumn 767
        Dù Fǔ  712-770 

My time as wanderer--never at an end,
My mourning autumn--toward dusk is done.
Miasmas linger in Master  Kui's domain;
Frosts lie thin on the Chu king's palace.
Grasses rivalling filmy mists--emerald;
Flowers withstand chill leaves--crimson.
Year after year's slight "fluttering fall"
Is not the same as it was in my old home.
Shí Yuè Yī Rì
Dù Fǔ 712-770

Yǒu zhànɡ fēi quán xiē,
Wéi dōnɡ yì bù nán.
Yèlánɡxī rì nuǎn,
Báidìxiá fēnɡ hán.
Zhēnɡ ɡuǒ rú qiānshì,
Jiāo zāo xìnɡ yìpán.
Zī chén nánɡuó zhònɡ,
Jiùsú zì xiānɡ huān.
Translator: David McCraw 譯者

Tourists, Chinese and Foreign, love to visit Fengjie and the Three Gorges. But they don't have to live here for four years like Du Fu did. Cold dreary winters, rain and sleet, no heating, no bathrooms, no running hot water. Scorching hot humid summers, no airconditioning. And the food, rough country food with no delicacies and no cooks to prepare it. And. who to talk to? Mostly river folk, poor, scrabbing, hardworking, uneducated. Only a few unsuccessful bureaucrats and a scattering of exiles from the An Lushan fiasco. It was not a happy place.

See the movie 三峽好人 Sanxia Haoren to get a picture of Fengjie's last days before the waters of the Great River submerged it, perhaps forever

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