The deep, deep green grass turns yellow in the July mist
In driving speed, grey fog gathers in from the east
Since in the highlands the cold season began,
Of severe chill, in vain, leaves fall unsung.
Great winds comb through bamboo land
From thousand dry hollow tubes, grooves issues with new tunes.
Below, gorges and valleys spread deep and grand.
From the slopes, flowers burst and tear with fermented perfumes;
Since the cold season begun, flowers in vain withers unsung!
Of severe mist and fog which blows down both the tender and the old,
All have since died: the sick and the weak unsung!