A Poem About a Cicada Written in Prison
Outside a cicada is stridulating in the depths of autumn,
While in jail I am tortured by a surge of homesickness.

Hoary-haired with grief, how can I endure
Such plaintive singing of the black-headed creaure?
Heavy dew has encumbered it from taking wing,
Its sounds easily muffled by strong winds.
Nobody in the world trusts my noble and unsullied nature,
Who is there to vindicate my innocence?
在狱咏蝉
西陆蝉声唱,南冠客思侵。
那堪玄鬓影,来对白头呤。
露重飞难进,风多响易沉。
无人信高洁,谁为表余心?