Up from my sickbed
back there in Yunan
moving my houshold
to White Emperor City
the willows grow apace
spring rushes them and then departs
our boat heads downstream
riding on clear currents
farmers are talking about
the coming growing season
birds are singing and soaring
over the brilliant hills
I hear that the great Yu
hewed these rocks with skill
and made a place, we find,
where the land is almost level.