| 英譯： |
By the Gold River, in mid-autumn, the bows of our enemy are drawn;
Startled, you fly beyond the clouds, then disperse and wail.
A single shadow once flew past the Immortals' Palms under a bright moon;
By a dim lamp several notes were heard in the Long-gate Palace.
You should know that hordes of Tartar riders are still here,
So why must you chase after spring wind and return one by one?
Don't disdain the Hsiao and the Hsiang rivers where people are few,
Where the water is full of fragrant rice and banks are overgrown with moss.
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