English Rendering
My native town lies where the River takes its source, As official I go downstream to the seaside.
Tis said white-crested waves rise ten feet high at full tide, On this cold day the sand bears traces of their force.
There stands a massive boulder south of Central Fountain, Emerging or submerged as the tides fall or rise.
I climb atop to see where my native town lies, But find by riverside green mountain on green mountain.
Home-sick,I will go back by boat lest I be late, But the monk begs me to stay and view the setting sun.
The breeze ripples the water and fine webs are spun; Rosy clouds in mid-air like fish-tails undulate.
Then the moon on the river sheds her new-born light, By second watch she sinks into the darkened skies.
From the heart of the river a torch seems to rise, Its flames light up the mountains and the crows take flight.
Bewildered,I come back and go to bed, lost in thought: It's not a work of man or ghost. Then what is it?
It must be the River God's warning for me to quit And go to my home-town, which I can't set at nought.
Thanking the God,I say I'm reluctant to stay, If I won't go home, like these waves I' ll pass away!
