賊平後送人北歸

وداع صديق عائد إلى الشمال بعد القلا

In the world's turmoil, we fled south together;

In times of peace, you return north alone.

In a foreign land, white hair has grown;

In the old country, green mountains are seen.

The morning moon passes over ruined ramparts;

Amid dense stars, you lodge by the ancient pass.

Cold birds and withered grass—

Everywhere accompany a sorrowful face.