Birds fly in a circle above the Yangtze Over and over, refusing to land As if they’re masters of the city patrolling the river. But they’ve lost their companions, The whistles of the ships.
Gray, century-old buildings stand By the river bank where The French concession used to be, Like a scene in an old movie. Someone walks by and falls on the street.
The yellow crane has long since gone away, All that here remains is yellow crane tower. The yellow crane once gone does not return, White clouds drift slowly for a thousand years. The river is clear in Hanyang by the trees, And fragrant grass grows thick on parrot isle. In this dusk, I don't know where my homeland lies, The river's mist-covered waters bring me sorrow.
After night rain, autumn sky. On bright waves the glow of stars. Heaven’s Ocean white forever. Yangtze’s waves a moment lucent. Broken necklace. Mirror pearls. In the sky the Perfect Glass. Twilight pale on dripping clock, Dim as dew weighs down the flower