ΤΟ ΠΕΙΡΑΤΙΚΟ

Gold vessels of fine wines,
thousands a gallon,
Jade dishes of rare meats,
costing more thousands,

I lay my chopsticks down,
no more can banquet,
I draw my sord and stare
widly about me:

Ice bars my way to cross
the yellow river,
Snows from dark skies to climb
the T'ai-hang mountains!

At peace I drop a hook
into a brooklet,
at once I am in a boat
but sailing sunward...

Hard is the journey,
Hard is the journey,
So many turnings,
And now where am I?

So when a breeze breaks waves,
bringing fair weather,
I set a cloud for sails,
cross the blue oceans!

Li Po