Xu Zaisi

Hills far away,

Hills close;

All a blur of blue-green.

Confusion of stones in the rapids as we sail against the current.

Narrow as if the joined clouds were walls.

Sun sinks, crows at dusk;

West wind and homeward geese.

I sigh because the way is hard.

Blocked here

Then blocked again,

And everywhere fish soup to eat!

Towers and halls

Of the old temple by the river.

Autumn colors slip into the water.

Green grass by the ruined wall,

Fallen leaves by the empty portico.

Green moss by the half-hidden stairs.

The stranger goes south

As the sun dips westward,

The river toward the east.

Magnolia blossoms stay

As the monks question,

“For whom?”

Late spring boasts its charm,

Pleasure boats ripple the lake,

Tourists are strolling here and there.

Colorful flowers everywhere.

Two lines of willow trees,

Boundless is the grass green.

There is no need of delicious delicacy,

Don’t complain about moderate drinking.

Stroll and have a drink at any time,

Don’t miss the beautiful spring prime.

I am back home along the flower path,

My knock on the door is echoed in the moonlight bath.