Anthology

A pair of golden orioles

In a jade-green willow tree

Some pearly egrets in a line

In a sky of pure azure

The mountains capped with ancient snow

In my window facing west

And boats that ply a thousand miles

From my door to distant Wu

Golden birds, calling

A willow tree, jade-green

Line of egrets, rising

White on powder-blue

Western hills in my window

With centuries of snow

At my door, boats from Shanghai

A thousand miles away