Facing me, the blustering evening rain besprinkles the sky over the river,
Washing the cool autumn air once more.
Gradually, the frosty wind rises chilly and hard,
The landscape looks more forlorn,
The fading sun falls on the balcony.
Everywhere, the red withers and the green fades away:
One by one, the glories of nature cease.
Only the water of the Long River
Flows in silence to the east.

I cannot bear to climb high and look far,
For to gaze at my native land in the dim distance
Would release endless homeward thoughts.
I sigh over the past year's wanderings;
Why should I desperately linger on?
I imagine the fair one
Is now gazing, head raised, from her chamber.
How often has she
Mistaken a returning boat on the horizon for mine?
How would she know that I,
Leaning here on the railings,
Should be congealed with sorrow like this?