Translated by: Zhang Ziqing
Edited by: Michael True
From the setting sun a small boat floats toward me
And after a turn, is anchored at a mountain town
In the darkening evening when mist is rising….
Let the boat, tied to the evening breeze,
Rock more lightly, and for our inwoard joy,
Dear painter, please spread more of dream-like ink water.
Then night falls. Faintly visible in the dusk
The boatman, a cup in his hand,
Begins to propose a toast
To a first light on the shore.