Tung-t’ing autumn stretches away forever.
About to set sail on a homeward-bound boat,

I can’t tell which lands are Ch’u, which Wu:
there’s nothing but water merged into sky

all boundless beyond, river trees sunk away,
lakewater spread brimming wide into seas.

One day you’ll be boat and oar of the world
and we’ll sail across rivers vast and mighty.

translated by David Hinton