遙山一望青如染,到得山邊卻不青。
松徑有風常自掃,巖扉入夜不曾扃。
燒殘栢子重添火,沽得村醪旋倒瓶。
卻羨山僧無一事,日長簾下自翻經。
遙山一望青如染,到得山邊卻不青。
松徑有風常自掃,巖扉入夜不曾扃。
燒殘栢子重添火,沽得村醪旋倒瓶。
卻羨山僧無一事,日長簾下自翻經。
遙望羣山,一片青翠宛如染過,
等到了山邊,那青色卻不見了。
松間小徑常有山風自行打掃,
岩壁上的門扉到了夜晚也不曾關閉。
燒殘的柏子重新添上火,
買來的村酒隨即從瓶中倒出。
反而羨慕山中的僧人無事一身輕,
在漫長的白日裡,於簾下獨自翻閱經書。
From afar, the mountains appear dyed in green,
Yet reaching their side, the green is nowhere seen.
The pine path, swept by wind, stays clean of its own accord,
The rocky door at night is never locked or stored.
When burned cypress nuts need more fire to be fed,
Village brew, once bought, is straight from the bottle shed.
I envy the mountain monk with nothing to attend,
Who through long days beneath the curtain turns his scripture without end.
認知因距離而異,揭示了感知的局限。
遠望與近觀山色的差異,蘊含哲理。
本詩為七言律詩,押平聲韻。
東山書院編輯整理