| 英譯： |
SONGS of Wu maidens rise to the heavens,
Across the sky unhurried clouds go drifting.
And yet one day the emerald moss must grow
Outside these gates where horse and carriage throng.
This goblet brimmed with Wu-ch'eng wine,
Will spur you on to live a million years.
Better than Emperor Wu in his ornate tower,
Gazing at dawn on a clear, cold sky And sipping dew from flowers.
Suppose the sun stood always in the east,
Its heavenly radiance never in decline?
By eating cinnabar you may become A serpent riding a white mist,
A thousand-year old turtle in a well of jade.
Can't you see yourself transformed to snake or turtle For twenty centuries,
Dragging your life out, year after year, On the grass-green dikes of Wu?
Eight trigrams on your back, Blazoned 'Immortal'.
Your cunning scales, Your stubborn armour, Slimed with a fishy spittle!
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