I awake light-hearted this morning of spring, everywhere round me the singing of birds.
but now I remember the night, the storm, and I wonder how many blossoms were broken.
2
preparing me chicken and rice, old friend, you entertain me at your farm.
we watch the green trees that circle your village, and the pale blue of outlying mountains.
we open your window over garden and field, to talk mulberry and hemp with our cups in our hands.
wait till the Mountain Holiday, I am coming again in chrysanthemum time.
3
here in the Eighth-month the waters of the lake, are of a single air with heaven. Cloud Land mr.osawa water vapor transpiration white boundless, the waves appear to shake the Yueyang.
I should like to cross, but I can find no boat, how ashamed I am to be idler than you statesmen. Sitting idly watching other people's hard river fishing, can only envy the fish caught in the fish.
4 a night-mooring on the jiande river
while my little boat moves on its mooring of mist, and daylight wanes, old memories begin. The boundless expanse of the wilderness was still deeper than the trees, and the moon was close to the moon.
5 from a mooring on the tonglu to a friend in yangzhou
with monkeys whimpering on the shadowy mountain, and the river rushing through the night. The cross - strait wind Blow the branches and leaves rustling, the moonlight is reflected by the river, a river of a boat.
I, a stranger in this inland district, homesick for my Yangzhou friends. Send eastward two long streams of tears, to find the nearest touch of the sea
6 in Summer at the South Pavilion Thinking of Xin
the mountain-light suddenly fails in the west, in the east from the lake the slow moon rises. It is cool in the evening, and it is open in front of the porch. Waves of evening breeze sent to the fragrance of lotus, the dew from the bamboo leaves to send a crisp sound. I thought I would like to make a song and make a song, and I only hate my friends in front of me. Turn to the old friend, and finally work hard on your dreams.
7
slow and reluctant, I have waited? Day after day, till now I must go. How sweet the road-side flowers might be, if they did not mean good-bye, old friend.
the Lords of the Realm are harsh to us? And men of affairs are not our kind. You should only be lonely, I will close the gate of my old garden.
8 at a banquet in the house of the taoist priest mei
in my bed among the woods, grieving that spring must end, I lifted up the curtain on a pathway of flowers. And a flashing bluebird bade me come, to the dwelling-place of the Red Pine Genie.
what a flame for his golden crucible, peach-trees magical with buds!. And for holding boyhood in his face, the rosy-flowing wine of clouds!!
9
Yi Gong practices Zen silence, and builds a harmonious world in accordance with the empty forest. The outdoor peak is beautiful, and the front steps are deep.
the sunset is full of rain, and the sky is green and the court is overcast. Look at the lotus net, you will know that you don't dye your heart.
1 at The Mountain-Lodge of the Buddhist Priest Ye at Night Waiting in Vain for My Friend Ding
now that the sun has set beyond the western range, valley after valley is shadowy and dim. The moon in the tsukiteru pine is even more refreshing at night, and the sound of the wind is particularly clear.
nearly all the woodsmen have reached home, birds have settled on their perches in the quiet mist. Ding agreed to stay in the temple tonight, playing the zither alone in the mountain road.
11 returning at Night to Lumen Mountain
a bell in the mountain-temple sounds the coming of night, I hear people at the fishing-town stumble aboard the ferry.
while others follow the sand-bank to their homes along the river, I also take a boat and am bound for Lumen Mountain.
and soon the Lumen moonlight is piercing misty trees, I have come, before I know it, upon an ancient hermitage.
the thatch door, the piney path, the solitude, the quiet, where a hermit lives and moves, never needing a companion.
12 on climbing yan mountain with friends
while worldly matters take their turn, ancient, modern, to and fro. Now we can climb to visit the places of historical interest that have been preserved throughout the country.
where a fisher-boat dips by a waterfall, where the air grows colder, deep in the valley. The monument of Yang remains, and we have wept, reading the words.