My home was formerly at Shangching,
And six years ago I left it.
Only today I return,
And I am deeply moved and sad.
The roads are the same,
But the house has changed a little.
I walk around the old place.
Only a few neighbors are left.
Step by step I make out the old footpaths,
And there are places that make me linger.
In this life of wandering illusion,
With winter and summer pushing upon each other,
I have worried that at the end of all transformations
I shall be too feeble.
These thoughts I must banish
With a cup of wine.