Here once on the Phoenix Bird Tower the phoenix birds
came to nest.
Now the birds are gone, and the tower empty; only the
river flows aimlessly on.
Here where the garden of Wu palace bloomed, the deep
grass hides the paths;
Where the kings of Chin vaunted their regalia, is only
an old hill.
I see the three peaks hang aloft as though half-dropt
from the sky,
And the river divide in two streams, holding the White
Heron Island between.
But the floating clouds cover the sun,
And the city of Chang-an is lost in distance and gloem.