Faring far across the river-narrow of Ching-men
I have come with you into the land of Chu.
Here ends the mountain-range that stretches along the plain,
While the river flowing on, enters the distant heavens.
Now under the moon like a mirror flying through the sky,
And the rising clouds that build palaces and towers,
I bid you farewell. Ten thousand li you sail away,
But it is the waters of the home river that bear you on.