|
|
Never a conformist since I was young,
For the hills and mountains I have always longed.
Into the dusty web, alas, I stumbled;
Astray for thirty years I have gone.
A caged bird pines for its native woods;
A pond fish dreams of its birthplace pool.
Now, a plot from the Southland I have cleared;
Back to farming, to be a stubborn fool.
Around my house the farm is two acres or so;
Thatched huts there are nine or eight.
In front, plums and peaches hang from their boughs;
At the back, elms and willows cast their shade.
A distant hamlet lies half hidden from sight;
Above village huts, smoke abides.
A dog barks in an alley dark and deep;
A cock crows atop a mulberry tree.
My courtyard is uncluttered and clean;
My rooms are bare and leisurely.
Long confined to a stifling cage;
Home at last, I am free.
Translated
by Tommy W. K. Tao,
Vancouver, B.C.
|
|
少無適俗韻，
性本愛丘山。
誤落塵網中，
一去三十年。
羈鳥戀舊林，
池魚思故淵。
開荒南野際，
守拙歸園田。
方宅十餘畝，
草屋八九間。
榆柳蔭後檐，
桃李羅堂前。
曖曖遠人村，
依依墟里煙。
狗吠深巷中，
雞鳴桑樹巔。
戶庭無塵雜，
虛室有餘閒。
久在樊籠裏，
復得返自然。 |