Ox of Twist’s year, I hurry for Bingzhou’s exams, my path running ‘cross a goose-catcher who utters, “This morn, I seized a goose, then ended it. That one which broke free of my net cried in sorrow and would not go, instead casting itself upon the ground, dying.”
I thus bought the pair, and interred them beside the River Fen, stacking stones as a marker I dub Geese Mound.
Of those that walk similar now, many do compose verse; I, too, have the Balled of Geese Mound. Older pieces were made without the scales, so now they face revisions.

I catechize this world of the living; what sort of thing is love?
A direct cause for a life and death synchronized.
Two flying visitors, going from southern skies to northern lands — how much frost and heat has hit aging wings?
Glee in convening, despair in parting — within those are further infatuated children.

He should have his word: Vast layers of clouds for li beyond, thousands of mountains cloaked in night, yet who walks alone?
Crossing Fen’s road, lonely is what was once filled with xiao and drums, wild fog yet shrouding level woods.
Chu’s Summoning the Soul yields naught, the mountain ghosts wailing alone amidst a storm.
The Heavens are jealous, but do not believe that the oriole and the swallow will both turn to loess.
For a thousand autumns and ten thousand ages, they will be left for waiting poets, who will drink full and sing madly as they pay respects to Geese Mound.

Original Text
乙丑岁赴试并州，道逢捕雁者云：“今旦获一雁，杀之矣。其脱网者悲鸣不能去，竟自投于地而死。”予因买得之，葬之汾水之上，垒石为识，号曰“雁丘”。时同行者多为赋诗，予亦有《雁丘辞》。旧所作无宫商，今改定之。
恨人间、情是何物？直教生死相许。天南地北双飞客，老翅几回寒暑？欢乐趣，离别苦，是中更有痴儿女。君应有语：渺万里层云，千山暮景，只影为谁去？
横汾路，寂寞当年箫鼓，荒烟依旧平楚。招魂楚些何嗟及，山鬼自啼风雨。天也妒，未信与、莺儿燕子俱黄土。千秋万古，为留待骚人，狂歌痛饮，来访雁丘处。