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1. Tune: Tian Jing Sha
Withered vines hanging on old branches,
Returning crows croaking at dusk.
A few houses hidden past a narrow bridge
And below the bridge a quiet creek running.
Down a worn path, in the west wind,
A lean horse comes plodding.
The sun dips down in the west
And the lovesick traveler is still at the end of the world.
2.Autumn Thought
Dry vine, old tree, crows at dust.
Low bridge, streem running, cottages,
Acient road, west wind, lean nag,
The sun westering
And one with breaking heart at the sky's edge.
3. Autumn
Crowns hovering over old trees wreathed with rotten vine--the day is about done. Yonder is a tiny bridge over a sparkling steam, and on the far bank, a pretty little village. But the traveler has to go on down this ancient road, the west wind moaning, his bony horse groaning, trudging towards the sinking sun, farther and farther away from home.
4. To The Tune Of Tian Jing Sha
Autumn Thought
Withered vine, old tree, crows at dusk,
Tiny bridge, flowing brook, and cottages,
Acient road, bleak wink, bony steed.
The sun sinking west,
A heart-torn traveler at the end of the world.
Withered vines hanging on old branches,
Returning crows croaking at dusk.
A few houses hidden past a narrow bridge
And below the bridge a quiet creek running.
Down a worn path, in the west wind,
A lean horse comes plodding.
The sun dips down in the west
And the lovesick traveler is still at the end of the world.
2.Autumn Thought
Dry vine, old tree, crows at dust.
Low bridge, streem running, cottages,
Acient road, west wind, lean nag,
The sun westering
And one with breaking heart at the sky's edge.
3. Autumn
Crowns hovering over old trees wreathed with rotten vine--the day is about done. Yonder is a tiny bridge over a sparkling steam, and on the far bank, a pretty little village. But the traveler has to go on down this ancient road, the west wind moaning, his bony horse groaning, trudging towards the sinking sun, farther and farther away from home.
4. To The Tune Of Tian Jing Sha
Autumn Thought
Withered vine, old tree, crows at dusk,
Tiny bridge, flowing brook, and cottages,
Acient road, bleak wink, bony steed.
The sun sinking west,
A heart-torn traveler at the end of the world.
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Withered vine, old tree, crow in stupor.
Small bridge, creek, and manor.
Winds batter along this trail of old, But Rocinante braves the cold.
The sun is always setting in the west, To the broken-hearted roaming without rest.
Small bridge, creek, and manor.
Winds batter along this trail of old, But Rocinante braves the cold.
The sun is always setting in the west, To the broken-hearted roaming without rest.
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