| 英譯： |
I heed the warning not to "sit beneath the eaves,"
A thousand coins are not to be taken lightly.
Finding great pleasure in hills and streams,
I have made many journeys, drifting in boats.
On the Five Sacred Mountains I have sought Shang Tzu-p'ing.
By the Three Rivers Hsiang, mourned for Ch'u Yuan.
Lakes—I have crossed the breadth of Tung-t'ing'
Rivers—I enter the clear Hsin-an.
And now I hear the rapids of Ten Kuang,
For they lie on the course of this very stream.
Through layered ridges for hundreds of leagues,
Back and forth with no constant direction.
Verdure and raven-black swirl and billow together,
In parted streams pouring and tumbling at random.
The fishing reef is level enough for a scat,
But the mossy steps are slippery and hard to walk.
Monkeys drink from pools below the rocks,
And birds return to the sun-rimmed trees.
I gaze on this wonder and regret that I came so late,
Rest on my oar and lament that darkness comes.
Swirling my hands, I dally with the swift-moving waters,
Washed clean henceforth of all dusty cares.
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