Setting Sail on the Yang-tsze

Wistful, away from my friends and kin,
Through mist and fog I float arid float
With the sail that bears me toward Lo-yang.
In Yang-chou trees linger bell-notes of evening,
Marking the day and the place of our parting. . . .
When shall we meet again and where?
. . . Destiny is a boat on the waves,
Borne to and fro, beyond our will.