Daily 古风 Song

The Book of Han files the two of them in one chapter. 卷54 is the 李廣蘇建傳, and 李陵 sits inside it as Li Guang's grandson while 蘇武 sits inside it as Su Jian's son . The two men had served at court together…

Two months in a cell, and the case against the prisoner was still not finished. The Song History says so in four characters: 獄不成, the case would not complete . The same chapter says why a few lines ea…

The first frost of the year arrives without weather. On the morning of 霜降 the sky can be perfectly clean, with no cloud that could have snowed and no wind that could have carried anything in, and the…

The lamp goes out and the room gets brighter. That is not a figure of speech. A wick holds one small circle of floor; the moon, once the wick is out, comes through the window and lies flat across the…

It is the hour when the courtyard is at its quietest and the house behind her has not yet stirred. A man has come up from the south with one line for her: the person she has been keeping faith with ha…

Late afternoon on the road out of a country town, and a canvas tent has been pitched on the grass verge with its flap tied back. Four men have come out of the town to drink standing up, one cup each,…

A man sits at the foot of a mountain in Chu with a rock in his arms. He has been there three days and three nights, and he has wept so long that the crying has changed substance: what comes out of him…

The ninth month, a little past midnight, and a man walks out into a small stone courtyard to see whether frost is on its way. He came out with a practical question, and the sky answers a different one…

It is the hour before sunrise, and the boat is out in the middle of the great river, far enough from either bank that neither can be seen. Aboard are a hundred-odd households of 祖逖's own retainers, th…

Every twelve hours the water climbs the stone stairs of the river town, stops at the third step, and goes back down. Nobody calls it. It has kept that hour for longer than anyone here has been countin…

A wide river runs below a high bank, and at the lip of the bluff, in the dry grass, one stone stands in the shape of a person. Nobody set it there. It has no face and no name cut into it, and it faces…

A dusk road outside a small town, the verge grass gone dry, and heaps of packed earth and straw standing at intervals beside the wheel ruts — one low mound, then another, and along one stretch a locus…