<Header>
<Author: 杜甫>
<Title: 龍門閣>
<Format: 五言古詩>
<Year: 1985>
<BookName: Tu Fu, One Hundred and Fifty Poems>
<Translator: Wu, Juntao>
<TranslatedTitle: Dragon Gate Pavilion>
<BookPage: 148-151>
<UsedPage: 4>
<Feature: 0>
<End Header>
<Poem>
清江下龍門，
絕壁無尺土。
長風駕高浪，
浩浩自太古。
危途中縈盤，
仰望垂線縷。
滑石欹誰鑿，
浮梁裊相拄。
目眩隕雜花，
頭風吹過雨。
百年不敢料，
一墜那復取！
飽聞經瞿塘，
足見度大庾。
終身歷艱險，
恐懼從此數！
<End Poem>
<Translation>
Down below the Dragon Gate Hill the limpid waters flow;
Without any clay on it, the sheer cliff rises to the blue.
The long searching winds drive the waves rushing against waves;
E'er since the world was new there have been raves after raves;
The dangerous road winding up by the sides of the hill
Is like a hanging thread, and to look up at it is a thrill.
Who had chiselled so many holes on the slant and slippery walls,
And had stuffed beams in them to support the plank road that rolls?
Like the petals falling, everything reels before my eyes,
When my head is swimming, as if the rain upon me flies.
How can I expect to live out the tenure of my life,
If only a slip, into the deep river I would dive?
I have long heard how difficult to reeve through Qutang Gorge,
And to climb over Dayu Ridge is also a scourge
For a life-time traversing paths perilous and narrow,
I experience this time a course of greatest terror.
<End Translation>