huáng hé yuǎn shàng bái yún jiān,
yī piàn gū chéng wàn rèn shān。
qiāng dí hé xū yuàn yáng liǔ,
chūn fēng bù dù yù mén guān。
Where a yellow river climbs to the white clouds,
Near the one city-wall among ten-thousand-foot mountains,
A Tartar under the willows is lamenting on his flute
That spring never blows to him through the Jade Pass