A Song for the Returning Flute

The tower stands open beneath the moon as its people retreat; on this journey, the wind drowns out the bamboo flute.

I bow and sing my greetings, pouring wine to honor the passing years.

Without you, Great Liang can no longer become a song.

Yet in all my memories, you remain a legend.

A light boat bids farewell at the ferry crossing.

The scenery beyond ten thousand mountains

is a past too distant to recall.