Pa Pass

At daybreak I head for Pa Pass.
 Spring and I together leave Ch’ang-an.
 A woman washes clothes in bright water.
 The birds at dawn sing in the light.
 River country. Boats here are markets.
 Mountain bridges cling to treetops.
 Climbing up, a hundred villages.
 In the far sun the Two Rivers.
 People here speak another language,
 But the birdsong’s just like my country’s.
 Understanding the depths of landscape,
 Even here I am never lonely.