Little boat—untie the line:
spring fills Chiang-nan banks!
Lamps shine down the avenues, halfway through the first month;
on the road, the year turns once again.

I've leaned on every balustrade, shadow aslant;
the traveler turns back his glance at heaven's edge.
Color of the grass south of Sha-shih Bridge,
blossoms of plum in Chang-t'ai Temple.