Post Two
This post was translated from Chinese with AI assistance.
Xin Qiji, “Chou Nu Er: Written on a Wall Along the Road to Boshan”
When I was young, I didn’t know the taste of sorrow. I loved to climb the high towers. I loved to climb the high towers, and forced out sorrow to write new verses.
Now I’ve tasted every kind of sorrow. I start to speak, then stop. I start to speak, then stop, and say instead: “What a fine, cool autumn day!”