The poem
Blue mountains lie beyond the north wall; Round the city's eastern side flows the white water. Here we part, friend, once forever. You go ten thousand miles, drifting away Like an unrooted water-grass. Oh, the floating clouds and the thoughts of a wanderer! Oh, the sunset and the longing of an old friend! We ride away from each other, waving our hands, While our horses neigh softly, softly . . . .