Seeing Off Chen Zhangfu (Li Qi)

The fourth month's south wind blows, barley has turned gold;

Date flowers have not fallen, parasol trees cast long shade.

At dawn I bid farewell to green hills, at dusk I still see them;

Riding out on horseback, my heart yearns for home.

Lord Chen, how open and magnanimous in conduct—

Crisp curly beard, thick brows, and a broad forehead.

He stores ten thousand scrolls in his breast,

Unwilling to bury his ambition in the countryside.

At the east gate, he buys wine and invites us to drink deeply,

Deeming all worldly affairs as light as a goose feather.

Drunk, he lies on the ground, unaware the day is done;

Sometimes alone, he gazes at a lone cloud in the sky.

The long river's waves surge, the sky darkens with clouds;

At the ferry, the boat has moored—no crossing can be made.

The wanderer of Zheng has not yet returned to his homeland;

The traveler in Luoyang can only sigh in vain.

I hear that many old friends know you in your hometown—

Now that you have left office yesterday, how do you fare?