The Jade Mountain/A Night-Mooring at Wu-chang
A NIGHT-MOORING AT WU-CHANG
Far off in the clouds stand the walls of Han-yang,Another day's journey for my lone sail. . . .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!