The old stable misses the weary horse;
The old nest misses the lost bird.
Floating clouds obscure my homeland;
Hesitant, the wanderer sings.
The wanderer grieves his long delay;
The clouds brood over eastern peaks.
The guest hall lacks silk and paulownia;
Fallen leaves are like autumn rain.
Hard indeed is the distant wanderer,
Hence his sorrow for lingering.
Once I sing this song of floating clouds,
Who can restrain my choked-up wrath?
Galloping back within a hundred years,
I only wish to fulfill my heart's desire.
Why do I not return?
Letting years and sickness encroach.
Not yet old, frost encircles my temples;
Not mad, yet fire burns my heart.
How hard is Mount Taihang!
The Dipper cannot be ladled.
Night quiet, the Milky Way emerges;
Brightly shine the stars Shen and Chen.
The fair one is distant as the blue sky;
A foot of plain silk outweighs gold.
Vast emptiness, all movement strange;
Profound silence, every scene dense.
Moss creeps up the idle steps;
Crickets urge on the cold pounding stone.
Plans for establishing oneself, how many errors!
The path is perilous, no room for a needle.
Three years not returning home;
Ten thousand miles away, leaving brocade quilts.
Dream-soul knows no double barrier;
Parting sorrow spans past and present.
Why do I not return?
Failing the lute in its case.
What is this at my waist?
Entangling, hindering my climbing search.
At dawn I make a date with famous mountains;
At dusk I lodge by the dark Chu waters.
Chu waters ripple uniquely;
Famous mountains are deep and rugged.
A guest comes from Dongting Lake,
Graceful from the depths of Xiao and Xiang.
Citrons and pomelos are in the southern land;
Wild geese leave autumn's message.
Below are isles of green grass;
Above are forests of green citrons.
Holding a candle, I peer into caves;
Treading waves, I gaze sidelong at heaven's treasures.
Reeds and lotus shadows are uneven;
Duck and crane chicks are drenched.
I sing loudly, cherishing fragrant du grass;
Loosening my hair, I slight the ornate hairpin.
Why do I not return?
Tears fall, wetting my lapels.
The kite soars to the Milky Way;
The mole cricket controls the sturgeon.
Glorious is the great sage's court;
Sun and moon shine upon it.
Though the sage ruler inspires and enlightens,
Extraordinary men are destined to sink into obscurity.
Ascend the layered city to hear Yunshao music;
The prince's palace rings with jade and gems.
The deer's cry longs for lush grass;
How much more the forester's admonition!