English Rendering
One cicada shrills after the rain;
Through pines and cassias blows autumn’s breath.
Green moss has sealed the steps with silent reign;
A white bird lingers, loath to meet its death.
Evening mist thickens in the woods’ deep heart;
The sun slants down the tower, loath to part.
Who knows, west of the path through bamboos, lies
Yangzhou, the town of music, songs, and cries?
