Water sends the mountains to welcome into Fuchun, a river like a painting in the new evening sunshine. The clouds lowly cross the distance, the sails come again,

The tide recedes, cold sands, birds descend frequently. It is not certain that there are no guests among the willows, there should also be Qin people among the flowers.

Yan Guang's clear breeze lasts for eternity, I dare not stop to ask for directions.