Classic Poem

I whistled to companions, sang " Chopping Wood, "
Oars raced the skiff bouncing the ripples
On a long, winding course I followed the waters,
Splashing through current, upstream in the shallows
Misty sands split two shores,
Dew-drenched isles flanked by pairs of shoals,
Dense forests of ancient trees reaching the clouds,
And floating peaks, criss-crossed, fallen upon the waters.
Cliff and pool cast lovely light upon each other,
Stream-filled valleys circle round and round
The road is far, light presses urgently on me,
The mountains deep, my mood still more withdrawn
Evening — chill brooding of deer and squirrels;
Autumn — sunset sounds of gibbons and birds
I vow to give up my plans in the Royal Library,
Go traveling in the hermit land of cassia.
Thus I write to take leave of friends and loved ones,
For a thousand years I'll search for Fairy Hill.