Hot springs pool beneath steep cliffs, the temple perches high and grand.
Once we traveled west together, cold rain and slanting, startling wind.
Empty eaves swallow mountains and rivers, stifled as in a cage confined.
Back and forth thirty miles, wearily in the lady's carriage I reclined.
My neck learned to shrink like a turtle's, eyes missed the flying goose's kind.
Till now before official documents, my old face blushes with shame enshrined.
Last night, the hemp decree's momentum, how could you, sir, go eastward find?
One like you on the broad road, should not share my poverty, I'm resigned.
The mountain spirits, two armored knights, disdain level plains to be aligned.
We, soiled by official dust, would they, if provoked, be so kind?
High spirits not yet fully spent, fine festivals are hard to find.
Tuning the lute, preparing at home, bamboo hall with small window blind.
Hosting ten guests with ease, kitchen help easy to assign.
Climbing mountains and listening to rain, getting drunk is of the same design.
Jade friend accompanies the attendant, together we express my heart's deep line.
Now while still strong and healthy, often nearing the glass cup of wine.
Red apricot blooms are charming now, willow branches quite full and fine.
Past and present share traces left, spring affairs still hurriedly entwine.
This joy must not be lost, these words I hope you'll not decline.
Facing flowers, just endure thirst, look at this old, sick man of mine.