长安古道马迟迟，
高柳乱蝉嘶。
夕阳鸟外，
秋风原上，
目断四天垂。
归云一去无踪迹，
何处是前期？
狎兴生疏，
酒徒萧索，
不似少年时。
Slow goes my steed leaving the ancient capital;
Cicadas’ trills amid the willows rise and fall.
The sun sinks down beyond the birds in flight;
The dreary plain hears the autumn wind blow.
I stretch my sight:
The sky hangs low.
The clouds, once gone, leave no more traces.
Where are my old familiar faces?
Unlike those days when I was gallant and young,
I find no more pleasure in wine, woman and song.