I met Tu Fu on a mountaintop
in August when the sun was hot.
Under the shade of his big straw hat
his face was sad--
in the years since we last parted,
he'd grown wan, exhausted.
Poor old Tu Fu, I thought then,
he must be agonizing over poetry again.
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Comments1This poem really captured a sense of sorrow and perhaps loneliness. It makes me wonder about the deeper story behind the friendship being described, and also about the challenges this man is facing. Do you think he finds writing poetry more of a struggle or a comfort?