The sun goes down, slanting light
across the Kuizhou city wall
I turn to the Big Dipper
face the direction of the capital
listening to the gibbons－
it's really true
they call three times
and make me weep
unlike the folks of legend
I won't be rafting rivers
far from the incense and official portraits
I lie here on my sickbed
hearing the bugle calls
blown from the whitewashed parapets
and look! the moon
that shone on the ivied cliff
now turns its light to the rush flowers
along the riverbank.