English Rendering
This is my third visit to his Pingshan Hall.
In a snap of fingers my life’s already half short.
He’s absent for ten years, gone to heaven.
Yet his cursive on the wall lives a flying dragon.
In memory of the mayor who left great writings,
We sing his ci ‘weeping willows in spring wind’.
Don’t say all things are nothing upon one’s leaving.
I’d say life’s but a dream even before one’s leaving.
