To summon a recluse is a futile call;
To learn reclusion, I practice a stroll.
Plain reclusion is but a meal for free;
Filling the role is like padding the count.
Through the long, long ages of a thousand years,
Rarely does one meet a true recluse.
Since youth I've admired the true recluse,
Often reciting Su Dongpo's lines.
Now I come wandering by Fahua Temple,
Right at the place where poems were inscribed.
The true realm suddenly appears before me,
And I admire even more what Su admired.
Truth brings thoughts to rest and vanish,
Untruth lets the spirit wildly race.
Truth merges with the dust and light,
Untruth reveals sharp edges and corners.
True writing has no slant or bias,
True flavor has no aftertaste of bitterness.
True joy needs no arrangement,
True ease knows no weariness or pain.
Thus we must follow what is genuine,
Let others marvel at our casual sprawl.
Thus we must treasure preserving genuineness,
Let others laugh at our simple clumsiness.
Just look at the hut of the true recluse—
Desolate, with only walls around.
Green hills serve as its screen,
White clouds always at its door.
Plant flowers and herbs as suits the place,
Sweep the courtyard with a joyful heart.
Here we can hold a truly simple gathering,
Here we can speak words of utter truth.
Here we can drink the wine of pure oneness—
What here is not Heaven's delight?
Xuanzhen is a poet among them,
Jizhen is an immortal companion.
I pull them along to come with me,
Our caps and sandals at ease here.
Sitting, I hear the young crane's cry,
At times watch the dark dragon dance.
Carefree, neglecting all formality—
Who is guest, and who is host?
I too forget my own true self,
Singing rapturously, down the mountain I go.