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Hundred river daily east flow Traveller go again not rest My life bitter float drift What time have end limit Zan abbot Buddhism old Banish come capital Still by earth dust bother Fairly show emaciated appearance Willow twig morning in hand Bean fruit rain thereafter ripe This body like float cloud What can boundary south north Different county meet old friend New happiness write feelings Heaven long pass fortress cold Year end hunger freeze compel Plains wind blow travel clothes About to part direction sunset dark Horse neigh think old stable Return bird exhaust fold wings Old times gather part place Short time grow thorns jujube Mutual look together decline years Leave stay each strive |
The hundred rivers flow east every day, The traveller keeps on moving, without rest. My life is one of bitterness and drift, What time will they finally reach their end? Abbot Zan, learned in Buddhist teaching, Banished from the capital to here. Still we're bothered by these earthly cares, Reflected in our lean and haggard faces. We stood one morning with willow twigs in hand; The beans sprouted; then rain; then they ripened again. The body floats along just like a cloud, What limit can there be, to south or north? I meet my old friend in a foreign region, Newly happy, I write what's in my breast. The sky is long, the fortified pass is cold, At the year's end, hunger and cold pursue me. The desert wind blows my travelling clothes, About to leave and journey into the sunset. The horse neighs, remembering its old stable, Returning birds, exhausted, fold their wings. The places where we used to meet and part, Thorns and brambles have quickly covered over. We look at each other, both in years of decline; Leaving or staying, we each must do our best. |