VII. 4. River Song

Of satin-wood our boat is made,
Our oars of ebony;[27]
Jade pipes and gold flutes
Play at stern and prow.
A thousand gallons of red wine
We carry in the ship’s hold;
With girls on board at the waves’ will
We are glad to drift or stay.
Even the rishi [28] had to wait
For a yellow crane to ride;
But the sailor [29] whose heart had no guile
Was followed by the white gulls.
Ch’ü P’ing’s [30] prose and verse
Hang like the sun and moon;[31]
The king of Ch’u’s arbours and towers
Are only hummocks in the ground.
With my mood at its height I wield my brush
And the Five Hills quake;
When the poem is done, my laughter soars
To the Blue Isles [32] of the sky.
Riches, Honour, Triumph, Fame,
Than that you should long endure,
It were likelier the stream of the River Han
Should flow to the North-West!