Classic Poem

The autumn days
are terrible and keen,
And the hundred herbs
will soon all be withered
Now in the season
when we tread the frost
I climb on high
to see you off again
Cold air
obscures the hills and lowlands
So that the floating clouds
have no place to rest
Unthinkably far
the islets of the ocean,
And the wind and waves
are often contrary
As evening comes on
we enjoy the farewell banquet
Though our parting words
must at last be sad,
When the birds of dawn
return to roost at evening
And the setting sun
gathers his last rays in.
Going and staying—
to each a different road,
And I grieve how long before
your chariot returns.
My eyes will follow
your boat into the distance,
And my emotions fade
with the Ten-thousand Changes.