English Rendering
When wind and waves rise upon the river,
They tie the little boat to a green willow tree,
In the village of red apricot blossoms.
How I envy the fisherwoman's air:
She uses no rouge or powder,
Only occasionally works her hair.
A wild flower on her bun
Surpasses any jeweled earring or hairpin.
Suddenly she calls her man to toss the net, sound the rattle,
And they row the boundless river-sky.
The profit's good.
Rush bags encase their crabs,
Bamboo baskets hold their shrimp,
And willow strands string their carp.
The city's not far away:
Go there in the morning,
Be back at noon.
They bring along a vast of someone's fine brew:
Men and gulls get drunk together,
Lying among blossoming reeds, a vast stretch of white,
And miles and miles of setting sun.
