Master and disciple went along the road, talking as they walked, and did not notice the sun sinking in the west. And this was the sight:

A brief prose bridge into an evening lyric. 走著路，說著話 uses the durative 著 (zhe) twice; 不覺得 ("did not notice") takes 得 as de. The lead-in 但見 ("and this was the sight") is the conventional cue that a descriptive verse follows.

Flickering, the slanting after-glow throws back its light; to the far ends of sky and sea the clouds go home.

The lyric opens on the sunset itself: 斜暉 ("slanting light") and 返照 ("the reflected after-glow") for the last light of day, with the clouds returning to the horizon at nightfall.

On a thousand hills the birds cry thick and fast, seeking their roosts, flocking to the woods in ranks.

The evening return of the birds — a thousand hills loud with roosting flocks — is a stock image of dusk, here given in brisk parallel.

The wild beasts go in pairs and pairs, home to their dens in troops and troops.

The beasts likewise go home, the reduplications 雙雙對對 and 族族群群 ("pair on pair, troop on troop") lending the line a swaying, songlike rhythm proper to the 詞 form.

A single hook of new moon breaks the yellow dusk;

The couplet lifts to the sky: the thin new moon (一鉤新月, "a hook of new moon") cutting the dusk.

ten thousand points of bright stars ring the night with haloed light.

The lyric closes on the stars — 萬點明星 ("ten thousand points of bright stars") with their haloed glow (光暈), completing the descent into night.