Mr. Dai Wangshu's poetic mood is hazy, the language has a strong sense of rhythm, and the style is mournful and fresh, rich in charm.
Sunset
The evening clouds are scattered in the twilight sky,
The stream flows gold in the dead of the sun;
My long thin shadow floated on the ground,
Like the lonely ghost at the bottom of an ancient tree in the mountains.
The distant mountain cried purple,
Mourning the long end of the day;
Fallen leaves are flying welcome
At the bottom of the night, there was a breeze.
The ancient fragrance flows from the deserted tomb,
On the old branches of the bat fascinated,
They whisper,
Reverberate low in the evening smoke.
The night sneaks back from the end of the day,
I wandered around alone and in love;
In this lonely heart, I am
Sorrow is concealed, joy is concealed.
lonesome
The weeds in the garden fade away,
Torgen in my old footprints.
Give them the colored clothes of youth;
The disk under the stars fades from Z.
As the days go by, loneliness endures forever,
Sending the soul to the departed weeds.
Like those poor souls,
Looks as tall as I am.
I will not go back to the garden today,
Loneliness is as high as mine;
I sit at night listening to the wind, sleep during the day and listen to the rain,
Realize how the moon is missing and how old the sky is.
Sorrow
Say it is the sorrow of the lonely autumn,
It is said that it is the acacia of the distant sea.
If someone asks me about my worries,
I dare not say your name.
I dare not say your name,
It is said that it is the sorrow of the lonely autumn.