Sculpted railings overlook the river's azure waves;

Fang-like masts jut up from sandbars at evening.

Shore clouds sink in front of a lone goose on the wing,

River rain enters a flock of ravens at dusk.

The sky lies close to earth in this wild, desolate place,

And the spring has been so cold, the year has barely begun.

Tomorrow morning the wind will puff up my sails,

And I'll float with my house, wherever it takes me!

Three days of clear weather, but boots still stick in mud;

I've passed most of the New Year's season in wind and rain.

In the second month at Xiangdong, spring's just arrived -

What luck! One mountain cherry, inundated with blossoms!

Traveling on official business is contrary to my wishes,

And on this journey I must ascend perilous mountains.

Crags loom before me in an unbroken, sheer cliff:

I imagine I gaze into a mirror made of stone.

My shouts reverberate from high in the sky,

As I climb up into the obscure, gloomy mists.

I glimpse our vanguard above the treetops;

Still just visible, but impossible to catch.

Then I crawl and clamber up a thousand twists and turns,

When all of a sudden I run into them again!

I'm unable to reach out and grasp the white clouds,

But I can feel them dampening the robe I wear. […]