| 英譯： |
CLOUDS of the Shores of Parting home
From the isle of cassia flowers,
Through strings of a lute from Shu
Two phoenixes talk.
Lotus leaves falling in autumn
As simurghs part,
A king of Yüeh wandering at night
On Mount T’ien-mu.
Hidden girdle-gems of an honest minister,
Tinkling crystals,
Fairy maidens crossing the sea,
Leading white deer.
What vision is going to Long Bridge,
Sword in hand?
What vision is writing on spring bamboo
With ink-soaked hair?
An Indian monk is standing here,
Right at my gate,
An arhat with venerable eyebrows
In a Buddhist temple.
I is antique lute, fill eight feet long.
Has massive stops,
An ancient tree-trunk from Mount Yi-yang.
$Not a puny branch.$
Sound of strings through the cold room
Rouses me from my sick-bed,
Leaving my potions for a while
I sit on the dragon's beard.
If you want a song, you ought to ask
A cabinet-minister,
Maestro, do not demean yourself
With a mere clerk.
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