A parting song

The rolling green hills and a pale river
Have accompanied us along the way.
Outside these city walls we must now part
And be scattered in wind like scraps of hay.
This sunset sees friendship become longing,
For neither clouds nor wayfarers can stay.
We strain to bid farewell for one last time,
But our horses won’t hush their plaintive neigh.

an 8th-century Chinese shi

Original