My breath is exhausted by the Dance of the Front Brook;
My heart aches at the Midnight Song.
I seek but cannot find the cloud from the Gorge;
What am I to do with the water in the ditch?
The northern wild goose has ceased to bring letters;
The bamboos by the Hsiang are stained with many tears.
I have no means of getting to see your face,
But let me still entrust the tiny ripples with a message!