Leaving the Crane Tower here empty,
The immortal, on a crane, is gone.
Gone forever also is the crane,
Leaving the white clouds drift ages-long.
On Hanyang plain, sunlit trees distinct;
On Parrot Isle, the grass lush and long.
Twilight falls, but where is my hometown?
The river mist keeps my spirit down.
Oh, Mount Tai, what view do you exhibit;
From Qi and Lu, your greenness still in sight!
Nature favors you with all th’ exquisites;
Your one side sunlit while th’ other moonlit.
The Clouds wreathe you--a great inspiration;
Bird returning home--a haunting vision.
When someday I’m atop your topmost rise,
Below, dwarfed, other mountains will all lie.
35. Two Golden Orioles
On a green willow, two golden orioles sing;
Into the blue sky, a file of white egrets wing.
Framed in my window, the West Range’s ancient snows.
Moored next to my door, the far-distant Dong Wu’s scows.
36. Spring Scene
Our country's war-torn, but we have the land,
The capital in spring sees wanton growth.
Blooms can move tears from a heart-broken man;
Twittering birds can astound parting souls.
Three months have now elapsed since the warfare;
A letter from home is like heavy gold.
Grief has thinned so much of my hoary hair;
Soon my hairpin will have nothing to hold.
37. On the Height
The wind swift, the sky high, and the apes howling,
The isle clear, the sand white, and the birds circling.
From boundless trees, leaves keep falling and falling;
The endless Yangtze comes rolling and rolling.
An autumn-grieved, far-wandering traveler,
Now old and ill, on this height, I’m a loner.
Hardships and grievances have now grayed my hair,
Diseases keep me from drinking, real despair.
38. Hills and Rivers Look Fair
In lagging spring, hills and rivers look fair;
In vernal breeze, plants and flowers spew scents.
Over the viscous mud, some swallows fly;
Upon the balmy sand, Yuanyang ducks snooze.
39. Birds Appear Snow White,
O’er the blue water, birds appear snow-white;
On verdant mountains, flowers seem ablaze.
This spring looks to be over very soon;
Yet still uncertain my home-return days.
40. A Night Moor by Maple Bridge
The sky is frosty, the moon dips, and ravens crow;
The fishing-lamp-lit maples swell my night sorrow.
From Hanshan Temple on the outskirts of Suzhou,
The midnight chimes peal to my passenger’s bateau.