BY T'AO YÜAN-MING
Even as a young manI was out of tune with ordinary pleasures.It was my nature to love the rooted hills,The high hills which look upon the four edges of Heaven.What folly to spend one's life like a dropped leafSnared under the dust of streets,But for thirteen years it was so I lived.The caged bird longs for the fluttering of high leaves.The fish in the garden pool languishes for the whirled waterOf meeting streams.So I desired to clear and seed a patch of the wild Southern moor.And always a countryman at heart,I have come back to the square enclosures of my fieldsAnd to my walled garden with its quiet paths.Mine is a little property of ten _mou_ or so,A thatched house of eight or nine rooms.On the North side, the eaves are overhungWith the thick leaves of elm-trees,And willow-trees break the strong force of the wind.On the South, in front of the great hall,Peach-trees and plum-trees spread a net of branchesBefore the distant view.The village is hazy, hazy,And mist sucks over the open moor.A dog barks in the sunken lane which runs through the village.A cock crows, perched on a clipped mulberry.There is no dust or clatterIn the courtyard before my house.My private rooms are quiet,And calm with the leisure of moonlight through an open door.For a long time I lived in a cage;Now I have returned.For one must returnTo fulfil one's nature.
Even as a young manI was out of tune with ordinary pleasures.It was my nature to love the rooted hills,The high hills which look upon the four edges of Heaven.What folly to spend one's life like a dropped leafSnared under the dust of streets,But for thirteen years it was so I lived.The caged bird longs for the fluttering of high leaves.The fish in the garden pool languishes for the whirled waterOf meeting streams.So I desired to clear and seed a patch of the wild Southern moor.And always a countryman at heart,I have come back to the square enclosures of my fieldsAnd to my walled garden with its quiet paths.Mine is a little property of ten _mou_ or so,A thatched house of eight or nine rooms.On the North side, the eaves are overhungWith the thick leaves of elm-trees,And willow-trees break the strong force of the wind.On the South, in front of the great hall,Peach-trees and plum-trees spread a net of branchesBefore the distant view.The village is hazy, hazy,And mist sucks over the open moor.A dog barks in the sunken lane which runs through the village.A cock crows, perched on a clipped mulberry.There is no dust or clatterIn the courtyard before my house.My private rooms are quiet,And calm with the leisure of moonlight through an open door.For a long time I lived in a cage;Now I have returned.For one must returnTo fulfil one's nature.
Even as a young manI was out of tune with ordinary pleasures.It was my nature to love the rooted hills,The high hills which look upon the four edges of Heaven.What folly to spend one's life like a dropped leafSnared under the dust of streets,But for thirteen years it was so I lived.
Even as a young man
I was out of tune with ordinary pleasures.
It was my nature to love the rooted hills,
The high hills which look upon the four edges of Heaven.
What folly to spend one's life like a dropped leaf
Snared under the dust of streets,
But for thirteen years it was so I lived.
The caged bird longs for the fluttering of high leaves.The fish in the garden pool languishes for the whirled waterOf meeting streams.So I desired to clear and seed a patch of the wild Southern moor.And always a countryman at heart,I have come back to the square enclosures of my fieldsAnd to my walled garden with its quiet paths.
The caged bird longs for the fluttering of high leaves.
The fish in the garden pool languishes for the whirled water
Of meeting streams.
So I desired to clear and seed a patch of the wild Southern moor.
And always a countryman at heart,
I have come back to the square enclosures of my fields
And to my walled garden with its quiet paths.
Mine is a little property of ten _mou_ or so,A thatched house of eight or nine rooms.On the North side, the eaves are overhungWith the thick leaves of elm-trees,And willow-trees break the strong force of the wind.On the South, in front of the great hall,Peach-trees and plum-trees spread a net of branchesBefore the distant view.
Mine is a little property of ten _mou_ or so,
A thatched house of eight or nine rooms.
On the North side, the eaves are overhung
With the thick leaves of elm-trees,
And willow-trees break the strong force of the wind.
On the South, in front of the great hall,
Peach-trees and plum-trees spread a net of branches
Before the distant view.
The village is hazy, hazy,And mist sucks over the open moor.A dog barks in the sunken lane which runs through the village.A cock crows, perched on a clipped mulberry.
The village is hazy, hazy,
And mist sucks over the open moor.
A dog barks in the sunken lane which runs through the village.
A cock crows, perched on a clipped mulberry.
There is no dust or clatterIn the courtyard before my house.My private rooms are quiet,And calm with the leisure of moonlight through an open door.
There is no dust or clatter
In the courtyard before my house.
My private rooms are quiet,
And calm with the leisure of moonlight through an open door.
For a long time I lived in a cage;Now I have returned.For one must returnTo fulfil one's nature.
For a long time I lived in a cage;
Now I have returned.
For one must return
To fulfil one's nature.