English Rendering
The hundred rivers flow east every day,
The traveller keeps on moving, without rest.
My life is one of bitterness and drift,
What time will they finally reach their end?
Abbot Zan, learned in Buddhist teaching,
Banished from the capital to here.
Still we're bothered by these earthly cares,
Reflected in our lean and haggard faces.
We stood one morning with willow twigs in hand;
The beans sprouted; then rain; then they ripened again.
The body floats along just like a cloud,
What limit can there be, to south or north?
I meet my old friend in a foreign region,
Newly happy, I write what's in my breast.
The sky is long, the fortified pass is cold,
At the year's end, hunger and chill pursue me.
The desert wind blows my travelling clothes,
I'm ready to leave and journey into the sunset.
The horse neighs, remembering its old stable,
Returning birds have all now folded their wings.
The places where we used to meet and part,
Thorns and brambles have quickly covered over.
We look at each other, both in years of decline;
Leaving or staying, we each must do our best.