English Rendering
At dawn I see the hills recumbent lie; At dusk I see them towering high.
It is true these green hills are full of grace, Trying to please you by changing their face.
A recluse has built a pavilion here, With nothing round but solitude far and near And this ridge with its thousand-pace-high crest Extending curtain-like from east to west.
Spring comes but brings for me not a home-coming dream; If autumn is sad, then spring is much sadder still.
On the lake I recall the Brocade-washing Streaml; And of Mount Brows ?
reminds me the recumbent hill. How long can the carved railings be good to behold?
The man who leans on them will easily grow old.
More lamentable is dynastic rise and fall!
We can foretell briers will grow in this painted hall. If a rambler looks for the place where have rambled I,
He' ll but find the recumbent hills before his eye.