少年不识愁滋味,爱上层楼。爱上层楼。为赋新词强说愁。
而今识尽愁滋味,欲说还休。欲说还休。却道天凉好个秋。
While young, I knew no grief I could not bear;
I’d like to go upstair.
I’d like to go upstair
To write new verses with a false despair.
I know what grief is now that I am old;
I would not have it told.
I would not have it told,
But only say I’m glad that autumn’s cold.
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