Office work accumulates, pile upon pile;
inked papers abound in strikethroughs and smears.
My writing brush races; there’s no time to eat;
though the sun’s setting, I know no peace.
I’m sinking and lost amid books and reports
that keep coming back! I’m faint with confusion.
Leaving off, I visit the west city-wall;
climbing the height, I let my eyes wander.
Foursquare embankments hold back the clear water,
with wild ducks and geese in their midst;
where may I find a pair of soft-sounding wings,
that I may float, like you, on the waves?