Spring River
Heat and cold, twilight and dawn succeed each other swiftly,
before I know it, already my second year in Chung-chou!
Shut up in my room, all I listen for are morning and evening drums;
climbing the tower, I gaze absently down on boats that come and go.
Enticed by oriole voices, I've come here under the blossoms;
spellbound by the color of the grasses, I sit by the water's edge.
Nothing but spring river, I never tire of watching it —
rounding sand spits, circling rocks, a rippling, murmuring green.
before I know it, already my second year in Chung-chou!
Shut up in my room, all I listen for are morning and evening drums;
climbing the tower, I gaze absently down on boats that come and go.
Enticed by oriole voices, I've come here under the blossoms;
spellbound by the color of the grasses, I sit by the water's edge.
Nothing but spring river, I never tire of watching it —
rounding sand spits, circling rocks, a rippling, murmuring green.
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