A translation of the poem by Du Fu (712-770 CE)
(Черновик)
A thinnest grass swings in the wind from riverside,
The mast of the lonesome boat is lightly inclining.
And stars are hunged above the plain, which so wide.
The rising Moon on glazy mirrorlike is gliding.
My poems have not glorified the name for me,
I forced to be a vassal though I am sick and oldest.
I just like the sea-gull which is torn between
the earth and the heaven without my own place.