gù guān shuāi cǎo biàn,
lí bié zhèng kān bēi。
lù chū hán yún wài,
rén guī mù xuě shí。
shǎo gū wéi kè zǎo,
duō nán shí jūn chí。
yǎn qì kōng xiāng xiàng,
fēng chén hé suǒ qī。
By my old gate, among yellow grasses,
Still we linger, sick at heart.
The way you must follow through cold clouds
Will lead you this evening into snow.
Your father died; you left home young;
Nobody knew of your misfortunes.
We cry, we say nothing. What can I wish you,
In this blowing wintry world?