I cast off from the shore of Wuling town,
The river swells, the rain has just come down.
I speed my way towards Dongting Lake's vast spread,
With torrent's force, like water from roof tiles shed.
A silver light devours both sky and stream,
No line discerns where water ends or skies gleam.
And I sail on amidst this boundless scene,
A single reed afloat on waters sheen.
The dust of office fills my sleeves with grime,
Here, washed away by waves and given time.
At dusk, a headwind strikes with sudden might,
And monstrous waves surge halfway to the height.
The boatman, terrified, wrings hands in dread,
Shouts and recriminations fill with dread.
No place to plant the pole, no use to strive,
No ground to moor the rope, no way to survive.
Two hundred yards of iron chain we lay,
Like a cat curled on sand, to hold our stay.
Advance is hard, retreat is not allowed,
Tossed by the waves, to fate we are avowed.
The giant waves boom like a bell's deep sound,
With combined force, they strike the stern around.
Each strike upon the hull, my heart does break,
All through the night, how many strikes they make?
I mark the candle's burn to gauge the light,
The raging force begins to lose its might.
We reel the chain and swiftly ply the oar,
By midday, we glimpse the distant shore.
A life preserved from needle's eye so small,
Rebirth begins for me from this recall.
They say to Yuezhou, with a fair wind's grace,
A journey takes but five days in this space.
Yet drifting, stalled, half a month slips away,
Far from the plan I made at break of day.
The whitewashed battlements now meet the eye,
Tiered towers against the ninefold sky.
Leaning on rails, my spirit finds release,
Gazing east, a sour pang brings no peace.
Two days ago, my solitary sail
Was tossed and danced where furious gales prevail.
Like sheep-gut path with turns a hundred eight,
So hard the road of travel, such my fate.
Now I know upon the terrifying tide,
The sheep-gut path can still be walked with stride.
At home, though poor, one finds a better state,
Safe and at peace, I'll close my humble gate.
At noon, loud snores resound by window pane,
While winds and waves rage over miles in vain.