The sky joins billowing cloud-waves to morning mists. The River of Stars begins to turn, a thousand sails dance. My dreaming soul seems to have gone to the Lord of Heaven’s place, where I hear Heaven speak. What is your final destination, it asks, showing real concern. The road is long, I say, and the day already late. I write poetry, but my startling lines are produced in vain. A wind blows thousands of miles, the giant phoenix will soon take flight. Oh wind, do not slacken! Blow my little boat to the distant Isles of Immortals.
3.3
天接雲濤連曉霧。
星河欲轉千帆舞。
彷彿夢魂歸帝所
聞天語。 殷勤問我歸何處。
我報路長嗟日暮。
學詩謾有驚人句。
九萬里風鵬正舉。
風休住。
蓬舟吹取三山去。
To the tune “The Fisherman Is Proud”
The sky joins billowing cloud-waves to morning mists. The River of Stars begins to turn, a thousand sails dance. My dreaming soul seems to have gone to the Lord of Heaven’s place,
where I hear Heaven speak. What is your final destination, it asks, showing real concern.
The road is long, I say, and the day already late.
I write poetry, but my startling lines are produced in vain. A wind blows thousands of miles, the giant phoenix will soon take
flight. Oh wind, do not slacken! Blow my little boat to the distant Isles of Immortals.