The Little Solstice
Heaven’s seasons and men’s affairs daily hurry each other on,
with winter solstice the Yang appears, and spring is coming again.
To embroidery in five-colored patterns, a slender thread is added,
blowing on the cane of the six pipes the drifting ash stirs.
The slope’s countenance awaits the La festival with willows about to unfurl,
the mood in the mountains dashes against the cold with plums ready to bloom.
Shapes in the clouds are no different, yet this land is not my own,
I let my son for the while drink down the cup in his hand.
（Stephen Owen 译）
Winter Solstice Eve
Heaven’s times and man’s affairs hurry us along
on winter solstice yang appears and spring returns
to silk embroideries a thread is added
out of long flutes reed ashes fly
the shores wait for New Year to set willows free
the hills battle cold to liberate plum trees
the shapes of clouds are the same as back home
I tell my son to finish my wine
（David Hinton 译）
Heaven and earth press for a change from day to day;
On winter solstice spring will come without delay.
The embroiderer adds in an hour one more thread;
When six reed pipes are blown, up and down ashes spread.
The rivershores wait to be greened by willow trees;
The coldproof mountain sets mume blossoms at release.
The scenery here looks fine as in our homeland;
I tell my son to drink up the cup in his hand.
Nature’s course and human affairs are pressing day after day.
For spring’s return winter solstice promptly paves the way.
With more fancy-work each lengthening day can provide.
We blow reed-stalks with ash to know when comes the springtide.
At year’s end willow-shoots grow up to make the banks green,
Braving cold plum-trees bloom to adorn the mountain scene.
Differ not all the vistas in the foreign land.
For this I bid my son drain the cup in his hand.