English Rendering
How could I bear journeys to and fro for seven years!
Again I taste sweet water in the Crooked Stream.
With drunken eyes I see the Southern land appears;
My exile by the seaside seems but like a dream.
Waves roaring in the gully can still wash my feet;
Mist dripping like green drops moistens a wayfarer's frock.
As I pass by,a pheasant startled flies so fleet
That flowers fall in showers over half the rock.
