Every time I have started for the Yellow Flower River,
 I have gone down the Blue-Green Stream,
 Following the hills, making ten thousand turnings.
 We go along rapidly, but advance scarcely one hundred li.
 We are in the midst of a noise of water,
 Of the confused and mingled sounds of water broken by stones,
 And in the deep darkness of pine-trees.
 Rocked, rocked,
 Moving on and on,
 We float past water-chestnuts
 Into a still clearness reflecting reeds and rushes.
 My heart is clean and white as silk; 
   it has already achieved Peace;
 It is smooth as the placid river.
 I long to stay here, curled up on the rocks,
 Dropping my fish-line forever.

NOTE: This version was translated by Florence Ayscough and adapted by Amy Lowell in the book: Fir-Flower Tablets (1921) New York: Houghton Mifflin, p. 123