<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373386" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>P’eng-ya Road</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I remember fleeing the rebels <br>through dangerous northern canyons,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the midnight moon shining bright<br>on narrow P’eng-ya Road.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So poor we went on foot, <br>we were embarrassed meeting strangers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A few birds sang in the valleys, <br>but we met no one returning.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My daughter was so starved she bit me, <br>she screamed her painful hunger.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I damped her mouth shut tight, <br>fearful of wolves and tigers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She struggled hard against me,<br>she cried and cried.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My son was sympathetic<br>and searched the wilds for food.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then five days of heavy rain arrived,<br>and we trudged through freezing mud.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We had no coats, no shelter, <br>we were dressed in cold, wet clothes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Struggling, struggling, we made<br>but a mile or two each day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We ate wild fruits and berries,<br>and branches made our roof.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mornings we slogged through water; <br>evenings we searched for skyline smoke.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We stopped at a marsh<br>to prepare our climb to the pass,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and met a Mr. Sun<br>whose standards are high as clouds.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We came through the dark<br>and lamps were lit, gates opening before us.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Servants brought warm water<br>so we could bathe our aching feet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They hung paper banners <br>in our honor.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mrs. Sun came out with all her children. <br>They wept for our condition.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My children slept, exhausted, <br>until we roused them with food.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Our host took a vow <br>he’d always remain my brother.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His home was made our home, <br>to provide for every comfort.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who could imagine in such troubled times<br>he’d bare his heart and soul?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A year has passed since that fated night.<br>The Barbarians still wage war.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">If I had the wings of the wild goose, <br>I’d fly to be at his side.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Du+Fu">Du Fu</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373386" data-title="P’eng-ya Road de Du Fu" data-description="I remember fleeing the rebels through dangerous northern canyons, the midnight moon shining bright on narrow P’eng-ya Road. So poor we went on foot, we were embarrassed meeting strangers. A few birds sang in the valleys, but we met no one ..."></div> </div> </div>

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