Classic Poem

From Chiang-chou looking toward T'ung-chou,
sky's edge, the end of the earth,
mountains ten thousand spans high,
rivers a thousand miles across,
and in between, such clouds and fogs
even flying birds can't get through.
Who knows but these thousand-year-old barriers
were put there on purpose to block us!
When you first arrived in T'ung-chou
dark bonds of despair held you fast.
And I, heading for Chiang-chou,
push on and on, never pausing in my journey.
Each day on the road finds us farther apart,
each day, less hope for news.
I wish I could entrust my words to the wind,
but the distance is so vast, my voice would never reach you.
While we live there's a chance we'll meet again.
Should we die, this is farewell.