In the eighth year of Jiading, the third moon's light begins to grow.
Shedding official burdens, I ascend as if to Penglai's isle.
Pouring wine, I cross the clear river; sails catch the wind for home.
My servant suddenly reports: a guest of honor comes to greet.
Pushing the awning, startled and pleased, I urgently ask his name.
He says he's Yuanjin Shan, whose fame on rivers and lakes is old.
Each wishes to offer verse, to join hands and speak of friendship.
I rush out to welcome him, joy like that of lifelong friends.
Yuan Shan ponders long, standing still, his poem not yet formed.
Perhaps he seeks perfection, each word refined a hundred times.
Jin Shan finds lines with ease, hastening eastward with his march.
Seeming to boast of swift wit, he strives to present his work first.
Though I am not so clever, let me try to judge for you.
Since ancient times, men of letters have mostly held each other light.
Both of you are rich in spirit, your bearing lofty and sublime.
The ages revere and follow, the purity of Yin, Ren, Yi.
Like orchids and chrysanthemums, charming in spring or glorious in fall.
Why compete over speed or slowness, striving for superiority?
Better to play the elegant tune, harmonizing with Shao's bells.
I wish to repay your kindness, pledging myself in alliance true.
My skiff flies like a split arrow; how can I pour out my heart?
Moved by your earnest intent, I write this 'Journey on the River'.