My livelihood lies in fishing and woodcutting,
My dwelling too is amid misty waters.
A wild boat, a single rod and line,
Day by day I dally with the clear stream.
Suddenly, by the shade of creeping vines,
I ride the current, rounding the mountain's lip.
Then I begin to feel the scene's delight,
Stealthily entering a small brook's course.
Often I missed the springtime's usual sight,
Entering the valley, I'm stunned by red blooms.
My quiet joy exhausts the greenish waves,
Playing with fragrance, my heart knows no end.
Beyond the flowers, a peak shines bright,
Among the woods, a blue grotto opens wide.
From afar I hear the sounds of fowl and hound,
Gradually I sense that human smoke is near.
Leaving the boat, I tread on hidden ground,
A stony path barely allows my shoes.
Suddenly, a vista of fields and gardens unfolds,
Bamboos and fruits cluster and lean together.
People with shaggy brows and coiled hair,
Meeting by chance, their faces beam with joy.
They still wear the robes of Qin's old days,
How would they know the Han dynasty's name?
They say they fled the world's chaos and strife,
And found this refuge to settle their life.
The peach trees they planted when they arrived,
Now bloom like brocade, gloriously alive.
And look upon the blossoms on the water,
How many times they've chased the wind and fallen.
They vie to offer wild rice for a meal,
Invite to drink from jade-like wine so fine.
Then call the children forward once again,
With dark locks still and teeth of pearly white.
Instead, they stir my thoughts of my thatched home,
Longing to return and fish for sturgeon grand.
As I prepare to leave, they offer words,
Do not speak of the beauty of these hills and streams.
Paddling out from this fairyland source,
The profuse blossoms still stretch far and wide.
At dusk I return to the azure isle,
A gentle breeze caresses the white angelica.
If someday I wish to come again,
Vast and vague, where could this place be found?