English Rendering
Drinking at Eastern Slope by night,
I sober,then get drunk again.
When I come back,it's near midnight.
I hear the thunder of my houseboy's snore,
I knock but no one answers at my door.
What can I do but,leaning on my cane,
Listen to the river's refrain?
I long regret I am not master of my own.
When can I just ignore the hums of up and down?
In the still night the soft winds quiver
On the ripples of the river.
From now on,I would vanish with my little boat,
For the rest of my life,on the sea I would float.