At dawn we leave White King, its clouds all colored, For passage to Kiang-ling in one sun's circuit. While both banks' gibbons cry calls still unceasing, Our light boat has gone by many fold mountains.
At dawn we leave White King, its clouds all colored, For passage to Kiang-ling in one sun's circuit. While both banks' gibbons cry calls still unceasing, Our light boat has gone by many fold mountains.