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031夕次盱眙县
Wei Yingwu
落帆逗淮镇， 停舫临孤驿。
浩浩风起波， 冥冥日沈夕。
人归山郭暗， 雁下芦洲白。
Remembering Qinguan alone at night, listening to the bell and not sleeping.
As twilight fell, Wei Yingwu's ship slowly lowered its white sails and anchored in a lonely town on the banks of the Huai River. The flat boat, which carried the poet's wandering thoughts, was now quietly leaning next to an isolated and helpless post station, as if it were a temporary haven in the vast journey, blending in with the tranquility around it.
When the evening breeze rises, it is like a bold painter wielding a huge brush, setting off layers of ripples on the wide river, sparkling, flashing with a cold and mysterious light. At the same time, the setting sun is quietly sinking into the sky, its last rays rendering the sky dreamlike, only to be swallowed up by endless darkness in an instant. The dim evening scene is like a silent poem of nature, telling of the end of the day and the beginning of a new cycle.
As the night deepened, the people of Shanguo lit up their lights, and the starry light flickered in the dark night, like a map of stars embedded in the inky background. And those who have been busy all day have returned home one after another, and their figures have gradually disappeared into the outline of the mountain city, leaving only a hazy warm yellow light and shadow, adding a bit of fireworks to this quiet night.
At this moment of silence, a group of geese returning from the north. Landing on a sandbar overgrown with reeds. Their figures are particularly clear in the moonlight, and their white feathers contrast with the surrounding reed flowers, like an elegant ink painting, adding a bit of ethereal beauty.
In the dead of night, Wei Yingwu sat alone against the window, staring at this picture of the autumn night, but his heart was filled with deep thoughts about the distant Qinguan. The majestic pass, carrying the blood and ideals of his youth, is now in a foreign land, but the concern is like a shadow, it is difficult to give up. In his ears, the bell of the inn rang slowly, each one as if to strike on his heartstrings, reminding him that this was a sleepless night, a night that belonged to a homesick wanderer.
With delicate brushstrokes, the poet lays out the scenes of falling sails and lonely posts, wind and waves, sun-sinking geese, and people returning to the mountains, creating a poignant and poetic picture. And the image of the guest who recalls Qinguan alone and listens to the bell is even more sustenance, the poet's deep homesickness and sorrow of detention make the whole poem show the natural scenery at the same time, but also full of rich humanistic emotions, showing the true charm and vivid beauty of life.
To put it another way:
The sails are slowly moored on the Huai water's shore, and the lonely boat is quietly on the edge of the deserted post.
The mighty evening breeze sets off the blue waves, and the dim sunset dives into the western sky.
The figures are gradually darkened in the mountain city, and the geese are inhabited among the reeds.
Sitting alone at night and thinking deeply about Qinguan, the melodious sound of the bell is difficult to sleep.
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