A prospect of spring - Du Fu

The country’s been broken, see, only hills and rivers.
In the city here’s the lush growth of spring.

These times are splashed with tears before flowers.
Grieved at parting, birds startle the heart.

Beacons have been burning for three whole months.
Any letter from home is worth ten thousand gold.

I’ve scratched my white hair so thin
It can’t hold even a hairpin in place.

- Du Fu (translated by Jill Jones)