(The poet departs from Nan-ling for the capital)
Home in the mountains in autumn-tide
Of new-brewed wine and yellow chick fattened on grain.
I call the boy to boil the fowl and pour the white wine,
While my children, playing noisily about, tug me by the sleeve.
I sing and imbibe the bland ecstasy of the cup;
I rise and dance in the tangled beams of the setting sun.
It is not too late to win a lord of ten thousand chariots.
Let me ride and spur my horse on the long, long road!
The silly woman of Kuei-chi may scorn Chu Mai-chen,
I take leave of my family and journey west to Chin.
Looking up at the sky, I laugh aloud and go.
Ha, am I one to crawl ever in the dust-laden weeds?