Adrift on West Lake in a wine-laden, colorful skiff:
   As flutes play fast and lutes, deftly
   And a jade cup circuits swiftly,
 The boat's calm rocking lulls the drunk into sleep.

Thin clouds seem to float right under the rudderless boat.
   The water's blue matches the sky's,
   As lake to sky and back move eyes,
 "Do the clouds above match those that in the water float?"