I tend my garden by the lake, a realm of hills and streams.
Each day with tranquil tasks engaged, I find no time for idle dreams.
A guest came by to visit me, intent to save me from my plight.
He said, though fond of leisure, I've not grasped its art aright.
The world pursues fame and gain, while you chase scenes and views alone.
Thus different from the common crowd, yet both in worldly currents thrown.
Why not be free from all desire, sit calm within an empty room?
Let all thoughts vanish, all affairs be guided by truth's bloom.
Respond when things come to your door, why stir up trouble of your own?
The guest's advice was not unkind, but my intent he has not known.
All things rely on circumstance, as fruits depend on flowers' grace.
I've heard of Luoyang's city walls, where famed gardens find their place.
Even Master Sima Guang, in plainness unmatched in his day,
Had a garden named 'Solitary Joy,' which he repaired in life's decay.
Human hearts are not the same, how can they all in one accord?
Consider me, both ill and old, nearing seventy years, my hoard.
Time's glow departs and will not stay, the years left are not guaranteed.
I ought to wander free and gay, enjoy these mulberry and elm days indeed.
Better than a wooden puppet, stiff and still from morn till night.
Moreover, with fine hills and streams, here long confined, now brought to light.
The genius of the place unveiled, all at once for me displayed.
If I do not take in this view, am I not stubbornly stayed?
Why not, between my desk and mat, now and then greet them with a glance?
Choose fine spots to raise my cup, seek wonders for my poem's advance.
Yet I regret the scenes are many, not all can be gathered in.
Others see me as occupied, my heart feels ease within.
When one has no focus for the mind, the ancient sage would oft complain.
Since I don't learn from childish crowds, who flatter gods or Buddha's gain,
Is there not gaming and chess? Doing that is better than abstaining.
The guest, hearing these words of mine, fell silent, nearly speechless remaining.
Thus for the guest I write this down, to roughly capture my thought's trace.
In time I'll have it painted true, following Wang Mojie's grace.