Classic Poem

Drunk, I let my skiff
Float aimlessly down the stream
To where peach flowers are blossoming in deep seclusion.
Ensnared by worldly cares,
To me it is not given
To be a dweller among the flowers.

The sun sets on
Misty waters stretching, boundless,
A thousand tricents away.
Hills innumerable,
Pink and red scattered like rain.
Lost to memory —
The way I came.