Once again letting myself sink into weariness under the sunlight
Softly heard, transparent ice shatters piece by piece with a ping
All things gleam facing the dawn
While I only want to sit down, to come to a halt
Meteors plummet toward the falling leaves
Trajectories alike, yet missing one another
Peach blossoms fall into flowing water, drifting eastward
The mortal realm's finest scenery lies elsewhere
It is said the giant Peng bird perches in the Eastern Sea
In its homeland, or perhaps above its head,
is there a cloud that can never be caught?