Written at a Village South of the Capital
崔护
去年今日此门中
人面桃花相映红
人面不知何处去
桃花依旧笑春风
qù nián jīn rì cǐ mén zhōng
rén miàn táo huā xiāng yìng hóng
rén miàn bù zhī hé chù qù
táo huā yī jiù xiào chūn fēng
This day last year inside this gate, a face and peach blossoms mirrored red. The face is gone—who knows where—peach blossoms still smile in spring wind.
Return, absence, and flowers that keep smiling.
崔护《题都城南庄》：人面桃花——一年之隔，景色同而人不在。短诗把错过写进春风。同景异人，是时间最狠的修辞。今日：重访旧地时，最痛的是「还在」的景物对照「不在」的人。
Cui Hu’s South Village: face and peach blossom—a year apart, scene same, person gone. A short poem folds missed timing into spring wind. Today: revisiting places, the sting is what remains against who does not.
重返旧地时，接受有些笑容只在回忆里；花还在，也是一种温柔。
When you revisit, let flowers be enough if faces have moved on.
Read first, then practice — fill in lines and write a character.
Fill in the blanks
Practice calligraphy