滞舟

The setting sun floods the long river with its glow

The flowing water, warm, blends seamlessly below

Among them, flocks of ducks and waterfowl reside

Rising and falling with the gentle wind's soft tide

They dive for fish in shallow banks, then disappear

And stretch their wings, ascending to the violet sphere

At play, content in their own world, they take delight

Would they regard the distant, solitary flight of the wild goose in the vast and unseen height?

And I, where should I go, what path is mine to choose?

My boat detained, repeatedly I face defeat's ruse

Ten steps, nine hidden shoals, the way is fraught and grim

A foot away, the passage is impossible, even for a whim

The boatman, lips agape, shouts in a frantic tone

If oars are laid aside, to what can we be drawn?

A giant rope, pulled taut, snaps time and again, it's shown

As if one tried to uproot a mountain peak, overthrown

At dusk, I fear that bandits or robbers may draw near

Crossbows gleam, reflected in the thickets on the pier

Pacing in worry, I can only scratch my head in vain

Sighing, I find no place my anxious thoughts to contain

I never share the joy that birds and fowl possess

In vain, I dwell among the bustling human press.