I've heard of the boat of Li and Guo, lately, crossing the vast lakes to bid farewell.
I wish to go with them, yet my spirit flies over the Song capital alone.
Life and death reveal true friendship; alas, I've lost my eastern corner.
Returning, I straighten my staff and shoes, my face thick with shame before that fair lady.
I recall the days carrying my rain-hat, ragged, without a warm jacket.
The nobleman took me in, with wine we amused ourselves day by day.
Ashamed to be a wanderer, like a crow circling a tree.
Deer in the wild eat apple grass, calling their fawns with gentle cries.
Wild geese delay their letters; the wine-gourd urges in vain to buy wine.
I yield to your mountain journey, sniffing purple dogwood on plum branches.
Again, a well-meaning person holds a feast, diligently calling guests.
Suddenly abandoning boat and oar, I leap on a horse to ask the long road.
Alas, I'm trapped in travel toil; how can I covet such fine excursions?
Now our sage and divine ruler sings the "South Wind" song of Emperor Shun.
What's needed are the worthy and able, sought throughout the eight regions.
You, pillars of the state, your words are jade and pearls.
Yet you still roam mountains and marshes—this principle truly sighs.
Reflecting on the great roc's rest in June, is this not also a southern plan?
I reckon when you receive the recall, disaster will turn to destroy the northern foe.
I wish to borrow the Shangfang sword, first to behead Zhang Yu's skull.
Though I am not clever, I dare offer my single grain of folly.