龚自珍
浩荡离愁白日斜，
吟鞭东指即天涯。
落红不是无情物，
化作春泥更护花。
Gong Zizhen
Where the sun sets I feel the pain of leaving,
As I crack my whip and head to the far east.
The fading reds are ridden with man’s feeling,
That will become soil to feed the blooms of spring.