English Rendering
Willows get in the way, orchids are grotesque,
blossoms smother their branches
below Stone City's walls the boats
sail slowly through the dusk
what's on top of Zhepai mountain﹖
the ancient poet Qu Yuan's grave
what's on Yuanhuo peak?
the flags of the magistrate's carriage
white snow makes a high, thin music
writing its poems on old temples
sunlit spring is a new poem
set to a brilliant melody
don't be sad that a soul
fords the clear river and is gone—
that's what makes travelers compose
ten thousand poems in vain.
