For years I loved the Yi and Luo rivers, resolved to settle there long-term.
On credit I bought a house in a benevolent neighborhood, with some water and bamboo.
Selling the house to recoup funds, but my old assets were meager.
Creditors demand interest, like starving tigers with blood-stained mouths.
The winter wind cuts like a knife on skin, so I head southeast.
How noble is Clerk Han, advising me not to force things.
I thank the elder via the wind, how dare I not feel ashamed in my heart?
I rent space on a merchant ship, but merchants are not my kind.
Strong men crowd the benches, another seat boasts mutton and wine.
The setting sun lacks brilliance, dusk falls dumb, constrained.
Channel stones bare teeth, washing beaches clash in disorder.
Rushing currents chew punt-poles, both banks roar like snow dragons.
Pitiful this sage and bright court, I'm still a homeless dog.
Transport routes cut off by southern seas, debt interest props up the North Star.
Yangzhou houses are cheap, can selling them clear my debts?
This house stores books, damp ground worries of bookworm decay.
Jia Zhuan, an old acquaintance, managed it for ten years.
Friends in poverty often change, can Zhuan be considered a gentleman?
Profit and fate, Confucius seldom spoke of; I'm truly a disgrace to his school.
Yet I value a plan to end here, to die without shame like a fox.
When shall I return to the imperial capital, to befriend white clouds forever?