English Rendering
Like the immortal leaving the crowd,
Wafting above the cloud,
Unlike the Cowherd and the Maid who fond remain,
You blow your flute in moonlight,
Waving your hand,you go in flight.
Your boat will go away
Across the Milky Way,
In celestial wind and rain.
We've met and drunk as if by fate.
Where will you waft when wind and rain abate?
