English Rendering
Beside the city gate my pavilion stands;
It commands a distant view o'er lonely lands.
The river's brimming water kisses the shores green;
The shady trees are late and laden with flowers seen.
The rain invites fish to bob out of the stream;
The breeze coaxes swallows to slant o'er it to skim.
The town is packed with hundred thousand houses fine;
Here only two or three are seen to shade the shrine.
