Boat trip at Red Cliff,
composing poems drifting with the waves.
Wooden oars lightly stir,
washing out green luxuriance and fading red.
The wind blows sorrows away,
leaving a weary traveler's worries dissipated after dusk.
Before the hair turns white,
why constantly worry?
The sound of waves drifts slowly,
mingling laughter with clinking cups.
Moonlight flickers,
on the long road of life, are you well?
The dream of Nanke ends,
waking to see fools chasing fame and fortune like flies after filth,
I, like a plain butterfly, sleep and transform into Zhuang Zhou.
Wielding the brush wildly,
carrying poems to Wutai afterward.
The brush has not ceased,
yet my thoughts have already dwindled.
In Huangzhou under the full moon,
standing at the bow, reflecting my white hair.
Waves like snow,
laughing at the divine beauty created by nature.
Gentle breeze,
reminiscent of the fair lady's tender red hands.
Playful words absurd,
filling the cup with yellow Teng wine.
Xiao pipes sound faint,
fingertips modulate the horn feathers harmoniously like wind brushing willows.
Lightly tapping the pot,
rhythms always seem mismatched.
Revisiting the old country,
affectionately laugh at myself yet feel no shame.
Gray hair comes early,
still offering libation to the river moon feeling it insufficient.
Water flows east,
endlessly stretching, retreating urges breaking the hourglass,
the hourglass urges me and I miss encounters.
Wielding the brush wildly,
carrying poems to Wutai afterward.
The brush has not ceased,
yet my thoughts have already dwindled.
In Huangzhou under the full moon,
standing at the bow, reflecting my white hair.
Waves like snow,
laughing at the divine beauty created by nature.
Wielding the brush wildly,
carrying poems to Wutai afterward.
Blue birds chirp,
flying back and forth carrying away sorrows.
Endless night,
I fill in the verses waiting for you to continue.
Coarse tea and light wine,
drinking them I transform into a seagull.
