It is raining: the sail blocks our view.
We raise it and the scene becomes even more beautiful.
Tall pines stand like writing brushes on the bank,
their cold reflections rippling like snakes.
Then a silver mirror floats out of the clouds,
and rays of morning light glitter on the jade sand.
We go to the bow and gaze into the distance
at range upon range of green mountains.

translated by Jonathan Chaves