I grow fair orchids on a boundless land,
And plant pure lilies on a fenceless strand.
And I cultivate a grove of parasol trees,
Mixed with cypresses on their furry knees.
That their leafy boughs heavenward would leap!
That their rich harvest one day I would reap!
Why regret that petals wither and die?
I hate to see they among tares do lie.
People compete to satiate their greed,
And there is no bound to their lustful need.
They measure men’s minds and pardon their own;
Evils and envy take their hearts of stone.
To run about and seek for gains and fame,
It is not my final and desired aim.
Toddling old age is approaching me,
I fear a good name ’tis hard there to be.
I drink magnolia’s dewdrops at dawn’s sight,
And eat fallen daisy buds in twilight.
If my wish is fair and viable indeed,
Why pity if a pauper’s life I lead?
Onto trunks rosemary petals are hung,
And fallen buds of lotuses are strung.
Fine ropes are made of violet vines plaited,
With orchid stalks laurels are well mated.
Those I’m following are sages of old,
Not those worldly-wise shameless and bold.
To my fellow men I’m but an outcast,
Yet I’m sailing after Bonson’s own mast.
( 龍靖遙 译)
|Editorial Office :||School of Foreign Languages, Shenzhen University, 3688 Nanhai Avenue, Shenzhen, 518060 China|