Driving the dragon-chariot, I soar to the ninth heaven,
But the celestial road is far, I turn back midway.
Gazing toward my homeland, I long for a place of peace,
With a troubled heart, I wander along the river's edge.
I stitch autumn orchids to make my robe,
And gather wolfberries and chrysanthemums for my meal.
I gaze for the fair one who does not come,
While the dark, long road stretches endlessly ahead.
I look down on the river's flow, boundless and vast,
And look up at the sky, azure and stretching far.
I think of Jingmen's distant, obstructed pass,
And Shouchun, lost beyond the great abyss.
I grieve for the wise lord, dwelling in solitude—
Who now shares waking words with him?
Anger fills my breast, stifling and oppressive,
Tears well in my eyes, falling in endless streams.
I mourn the long bondage of times gone by,
And wish to change my path, alter my course.
I think of the jade offered thrice to the king,
Hoping a connoisseur might give it one glance.
Blocked by wind and rain, gloomy and drear,
The night cannot grow bright.
Alas, that fate should be like this—
How can I stay silent through this long life?
Better to embrace stones and sink into the river,
That my unfulfilled aims may find trust below.
Though the world does not grieve for me,
How can I not grieve for such a man?
I would ask Yi and Qi to be my guides,
To seek an audience with the ancient sage-kings.
I'd mourn for Wu Xian at the heavenly gate,
And befriend the river lord, companion to Wu Zixu.
If the river god does not scorn me,
I'd gladly offer myself to the deep-water fish.
Enough, enough! Must I never see
That wise and virtuous lord again?