A Poem About a Cicada Written in Prison

Outsidea 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?

　　在獄詠蟬

　　西陸蟬聲唱，南冠客思侵。

　　那堪玄鬢影，來對白頭呤。

　　露重飛難進，風多響易沉。

　　無人信高潔，誰爲表餘心？