YOU are the big drop of dew under the lotus leaf, I am the smaller one on its upper side,' said the dewdrop to the lake.

Liupan the Mountain of Six Circles Dazzling sky to the far cirrus clouds. I gaze at wild geese vanishing into the south. If we cannot reach the Long Wall we are not true men. On my fingers I count the twenty thousand li we have already marched. On the summit of Liupan the west wind lazily ripples our red banner. Today we have the long rope in our hands.

Oh my only friend, my best beloved, the gates are open in my house-do not pass by like a dream.

The music of the far-away summer flutters around the Autumn seeking its former nest.

Not hammer-strokes, but dance of the water, sings the pebbles into perfection.

I have spent many days stringing and unstringing my instrument while the song I came to sing remains unsung.