登城望西崦

I climb the city wall and gaze toward the western hills;

A few houses lie bathed in the slanting sunlight.

Their wooden gates are closed even in broad daylight—

A scene that breathes the air of ancient, simpler times.

Pale and faint, the cooking smoke begins to rise;

Lonely and still, the fishing basket is lowered down.

The barren soil yields short and meager wheat shoots;

Heavy frost leaves the mulberry branches bare.

Perhaps these are the folk who planted peach trees long ago,

Or maybe an old man who gathers magic herbs.

When shall I lodge upon this tower overnight,

And watch the bright moon shine upon the night-time pounding?