Bound Home to Mount Song

 The limpid river, past its bushes 
Running slowly as my chariot, 
Becomes a fellow voyager 
Returning home with the evening birds.
 
A ruined city-wall overtops an old ferry, 
Autumn sunset floods the peaks.
 
.
.
.
Far away, beside Mount Song, 
I shall close my door and be at peace.

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