A picture before me the city lies there.
Seen far from the hills in the dawning's bright air.
Clear mirrors two rivers have here their twin birth:
Two bridges like rainbows that pair on the earth.
In their orange and pumelo groves they are cold.
The leaves of the wu-tung with Autumn grow old.
Who cares that aloft on this Northern Tower I
Yet dream of the ancients the wind has borne by?