<Header>
<Author: 杜甫>
<Title: 旅夜書懷>
<Format: 五律>
<Year: 2009>
<BookName: Three Hundred TANG POEMS>
<Translator: Harris, Peter>
<TranslatedTitle: Thoughts written while travelling at night>
<BookPage: 72>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 2>
<End Header>
<Poem>
細草微風岸，
危檣獨夜舟。
星垂平野闊，
月涌大江流。
名豈文章著，
官因老病休。
飄飄何所似，
天地一沙鷗。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
By the bank, a light breeze through fine grass
And my boat alone in the night with its tall mast.
The stars hang down over an expanse of plain;
The moon bursts from the flowing waters $(of the Yangzi)$.
My writings will surely not make me famous,
$(And)$ an old and sick official is best retired.
Endlessly drifting, what can I be compared to?
A single seagull between the earth and the sky.
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
maated Translation>
By the bank, a light breeze through fine grass
And my boat alone in the night with its tall mast.
The stars hang down over an expanse of plain;
The moon bursts from the flowing waters $(of the Yangzi)$.
My writings will surely not make me famous,
$(And)$ an old and sick official is best retired.
Endlessly drifting, what can I be compared to?
A single seagull between the earth and the sky.
<End Formatted Translation>