English Rendering
In a ship of spice-wood with unsinkable oars,
Musicians at both ends,we drift along the shores.
We have sweet wine with singing girls to drink our fill,
And so the waves may carry us where'er they will.
Immortals could not fly without their yellow crane;
Unselfish men might follow white gulls to the main.
The verse of Qu Ping shines as bright as sun and moon,
While palaces of Chu vanish like dreams at noon.
Seeing my pen in verve,even the mountains shake;
Hearing my laughter proud,the seaside hermits wake.
If worldly fame and wealth were things to last forever,
Then northwestward would turn the eastward-flowing river.
