Far off in the clouds stand the walls of Han-yang,
Another day's journey for my lone sail.mw-parser-output .nowrap,.mw-parser-output .nowrap a:before,.mw-parser-output .nowrap .selflink:before{white-space:nowrap}. . . .
Though a river-merchant ought to sleep in this calm weather,
I listen to the tide at night and voices of the boatmen.
. . . My thin hair grows wintry, like the triple Hsiang streams,
Three thousand miles my heart goes, homesick with the moon;
But the war has left me nothing of my heritage—
And oh, the pang of hearing these drums along the river!