山澤

I am a man of the hills and marshes, by nature free,

Who scorns the cap and robe of office, wild and at ease.

For fifty years I roamed the official's weary way,

Till Heaven sent me back to farm and plough the land.

Between the eastern and southern paths of the field,

I've come to love my homeland, my own native soil.

In Chu's ancestral shrine, I sit through autumn rites;

At Sui's old temple, I watch the nighttime shows.

Drunk and lost, I gather cockleburs in the wild;

On the road, my meal is cooked with simple millet.

I wonder if I am a man of ancient times,

Whose joy lasts a hundred years, never to end.

Sometimes in leisure hours, with time to spare,

I often read again the works of Lao and Zhuang.

I've also traveled to Min Mountain and Emei,

And heard a little of the ways to transcend the world.

Let vital breath be the host of the eastern way;

When the host is calm, the guest will naturally stay.

Five hundred years from now, look for me again,

You'll find me by the side of Ba Bridge, free and plain.