Classic Poem

The sun sinks — evening on the blue river;
I rest my oars to ask of local customs
These walls look out on the land of Ba,
While into the terraces sink the palaces of the King of Han
A wild region — still in Zhou's domain
Deep in its mountains remain the deeds of Yu
Peaks hang, their green cliffs broken off,
Terrain perilous, the emerald stream goes through
Ancient trees rise at the edge of the clouds,
Homeward sails emerge in the fog.
My river road goes off without end —
This wanderer's longing now seems endless too.