English Rendering
Mountain clouds move over this remote frontier,
Antares once again flows to the west.
Driving rain stirs the splendid roof,
whistling in the wind, beams and rafters turn autumn.
At road’s end, a debt of gratitude to my true friend,
in twilight years I borrow the chopsticks before me.
I have wasted my time paying my respects on clear mornings,
how can I perfect plans for my superior?
I untie my robes and open the north door,
my relaxed pillow faces the southern tower.
The trees are wet, the wind’s cool comes in,
the river is noisy, vapors float on the water.
His relaxing courtesies feel agreeable to my heart,
the season is brisk, my illness a little better.
When the Commander returns to season the cauldron,
I will again visit my former hills.
