译文:郁孤台下这赣江的流水,水中不知包含了多少乱世中行人的眼泪。我向西北眺望故都长安,可惜无数青山层层叠叠,遮住了我的视线。
Writing is another way of making love.
Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.