The sky is round like a turning millstone,
For ages, has it ever ceased to spin?
The sun's chariot wheels run around it,
Setting in the west, soon rising in the east again.
Sages and worthies emulate heaven's motion,
Thus they are ever diligent and driven.
Great Yu was born with calloused hands and feet,
Confucius had no time to warm his mat.
How can a guest sleep in such comfort?
Some might advise it's not the proper way.
There are also those who seek fame and merit,
Moving a hundred tiles within their study.
They grant themselves no moment of leisure,
Striving to weary their bones and sinews.
How then is this 'Studio of Easeful Contentment'?
Where one dwells in peace, enjoying idle repose.
This studio is not lavish or ornate,
Easeful—just enough room to bend one's knees.
A bamboo table faces a couch of knotweed,
Books are placed to the left and right.
Sometimes meeting with worthy friends,
We converse at ease until the day is done.
The body at ease, bending and stretching freely,
The mind at ease, speaking or silent as it wills.
Only when ease brings contentment,
One forgets even the ease itself.
The old master of Lone Mountain in days past,
Preserved this state beyond his eightieth year.
Leaving ease as a legacy for his descendants,
This plan was surely well conceived.
Between heaven and earth in this human life,
What matter is not our duty?
Reflect at night on the day's deeds,
Then ease and peace can be attained.
Moreover, you possess cultivated talent,
Should think to follow in your forebears' steps.
Our hopes meet on a journey of ten thousand miles,
Not in guarding a single room.
Refine meaning to put it into practice,
How can dragon and snake remain in hibernation?