Where does the Long River come from?
From the far west, its source is vast and deep.
It breaks through the mountains of Shu, flowing on,
And joins with the waters of Ba, its course to keep.
Plains and streams blend daily under the sun,
Their rushing force grows fiercer, never done.
A turbid flow of ten thousand miles runs free,
Not pausing for a moment, to the sea.
Terrifying, as if poured from the sky,
Urgent, like rushing to the sea, swelling high.
Tides ebb and flow with each passing day,
Morning and evening find no peaceful bay.
How mighty its assault, its charging breath!
Devouring all, its hunger knows no death.
Thus I think of Yu's great achievement done,
Not by Yao's counsel alone was it won.
Long have mouths gaped in awe, a silent plea,
Would heads now turn as black as they can be?
I came here in the depth of winter's reign,
How fierce the angry winds, with freezing rain!
They lift and roar, driving the waves on high,
Hills and mounds in watery embrace lie.
Like ten thousand cauldrons brought to boil as one,
Cooking a crowd of villains, under the sun.
The sun's heat burns with a blazing fire,
Ghosts strive to roast in a demonic pyre.
Its sound and force, to describe, I aspire,
But my mouth is clamped, as if held by a vise.
Soon it subsides, a little calm is found,
A clear wind sweeps the murky air around.
The deep, clear waters settle of their will,
Wiped clean, no trace of stain is left to chill.
Just like the mirror of the Emperor's maid,
Reflecting the blue sky, in which it's laid.
Gazing afar clears both spirit and mind,
Looking down, I see each hair defined.
As in the days of Yao and Shun, so grand,
Their kindly grace moistened all the land.
Promoting worthies, silently they'd weigh,
Banishing evil, without a word to say.
Cleansing the caves and grottoes, making bare,
Sweeping away the dim and treacherous snare.
Waves of kindness, vast and overflowing,
Soak and nourish, steadily growing.
Mountains from the southwest come in view,
Hanging like curtains, the sky piercing through.
Frosty winds and moon shine sharp and keen,
Purple and emerald hues on edges glean.
Waveless, they reflect a mutual light,
A somber silk painting, dark yet bright.
A small boat sets out midstream, floating free,
Looking up and down, I lose my bearings, see.
In life, what's precious is to follow one's way,
If you hold faith, what need for divination's sway?
I long to leave the dusty world behind,
And hide my body where green reeds are entwined.
Leisurely roam with fish and birds at play,
Silently watch the lurking dragons stay.
Build a house near the fishing bank so fair,
With cliffs so steep they pierce my dwelling's air.
In spring, I'll pick wild herbs, a simple treat,
At dusk, ascend to catch the fish so sweet.
Look up and think of peaks supremely high,
Look down and love the humble, drawing nigh.
In vast and empty spaces, I will be,
Daily honing my poetry's sharp glee.
Seeking friends who shun the worldly race,
I gaze, drunk, toward the town's curtained space.
Advance or retreat, both follow the true course,
Even in utmost hardship, feel no remorse.