THE HARD ROAD

Pure wine costs, for the golden cup,
ten thousand coppers a flagon,
And a jade plate of dainty food calls for million coins.

I fling aside my chop-sticks and cup, I cannot eat nor drink...
I pull out my dagger, I peer four ways in vain.
I would cross the Yellow River, but ice chokes the ferry;
I would climb the Tai-hang Mountains,
but the sky is blind with snow..
I would sit and poise a fishing-pole, lazy by a brook --
But I suddenly dream of riding a boat, sailing for the sun...

Journeying is hard,
Journeying is hard.
There are many turings --
Which am I to follow?...

I will mount a long wind some day and break the heavy waves
And set my cloudy sail straight and bridge the deep, deep sea.

Li Po