English Rendering
Painted prows pierce the sky,
Red banners whirl like snow,
Sacred drums thunder nigh.
Alas! Qu Yuan drowned, exiled long ago—
His laments for ancient kings,
Mountains and streams brim with woe,
Elders grieve as sorrow clings.
The upright are cast aside,
The wise king long has died—
Can three clans truly Chu’s fate decide?
On the empty river,
Only mist and waves shiver,
While years flow on forever.
With cup in hand,
I gaze west, pacing slow—
Will loyal souls return to this land?
Vain are the races to seize the prize,
Where fish and dragons surge and rise,
Shouts summon courage bold,
Till earth splits and mountains fold.
Fragrant rice wrapped in silk thread,
Talismans pinned on mugwort spread—
Yet children’s hearts by wine are led.
Rise and fall are but a jest,
Left to fleeting clouds at best,
While I stand at heaven’s edge, unblest.
