When the sky, mist, and waved clouds mingle at dawn,

when a star-laden river, the Milky Way, wheels

in the dance of a thousand sails,

then my spirit, in a dream, drifts to the empyrean,

listening to heaven’s voice

gently asking me about a journey:

What is your desire?

I answer with a sigh:  The road is long at dusk;

I’ve studied poetry intently,

even written a few startling lines.

Yet the powerful peng bird

soars high for ninety thousand li

on pure wind, unceasing wind,

as I desire to send my little boat

three mythic mountains away.