On and on the Great River rolls, racing east
Of proud and gallant heroes its white-tops leave no trace,
As right and wrong, pride and fall turn all at once unreal.
When all the dreams drain,
Same are loss and gain.
Yet under the pink sunsets
the green hills ever stay
to blaze in the west-waving day
White haired fishermen comb the river isles
having seen enough of spring and autumn tides
Over a jar of wine they talk and laugh
Where many a famed event
Provides their merriment.
(from the epic story of Romance of the Three Kingdoms)
