You ask me why I dwell in the green mountain; I smile and make no reply for my heart is free of care. As the peach-blossom flows down stream and is gone into the unknown, I have a world apart that is not among men.

Beneath the blossoms with a pot of wine, No friends at hand, so I poured alone; I raised my cup to invite the moon, Turned to my shadow, and we became three.

The paired butterflies are already yellow with August Over the grass in the West garden; They hurt me. I grow older.

From some home a jade flute sends dark notes drifting,_x000D_ _x000D_ Scattering on the spring wind that fills Lo-yang._x000D_ _x000D_ Tonight, if we should hear the willow-breaking song,_x000D_ _x000D_ Who could help but long for the gardens of home?