In its travels, the phoenix stopped at Phoenix Tower,
but soon left the tower empty, the river flowing away.
Blossoms and grasses burying the paths of a Wu palace,
Chin’s capped and robed nobles all ancient gravemounds,
the peaks of Triple Mountain float beyond azure heavens,
and midstream in open waters, White-Egret Island hovers.
It’s all drifting clouds and shrouded sun. Lost there,
our Ch’ang-an’s nowhere in sight. And so begins grief.