Precipitous point—river and lake
bright beneath my eyes;
floatingly, as if about to take off on the wind.
Even here, the highest place, a whiff of dragon-fish;
halfway up, already not the slightest sound of bird.
Fragrant grasses, blue and wild, mingle far and near;
evening sunlight, gold and emerald, transforms dark and clear.
King Fu-ch'ai's dictatorship has vanished utterly:
maple leaves, blossomed reeds, bobbing fishing boats.