On the First of the Eighth Month, Shown to the Abbot八月一日。示堂頭。
Dongguk Isangguk Jip (Collected Works of Minister Yi of the Eastern Country) 東國李相國集 · Yi Gyubo · Compiled 1241 (Goryeo, 28th year of King Gojong); revised and enlarged 1251 · 2 passages · 112 Chinese characters · reading time 1.1 min
Dongguk Isangguk Jip (Collected Works of Minister Yi of the Eastern Country) Former Collection, Book 6 The collected writings of Yi Gyubo of Goryeo, gathered and cut in woodblock by his son Yi Ham in 1241 and revised and enlarged by his grandson Yi Ikbae in 1251. It holds poems and rhapsodies, memorials and reports sent up to the king, records written for temples and pagodas, stele and tomb inscriptions, letters and prefaces, and the state letters that passed to and from the Mongols during the invasions. The Lay of King Dongmyeong, which sings the founder of Goguryeo, stands in volume 3 of the first collection, and the daily life of a man who called himself the White Cloud Layman — with his wine, his zither and his verse — fills the later collection. The book closes with the last poem he wrote as his eyes failed and he laid down the brush, and with the dirge and tomb inscription others made for him after his death.
The going road winds round and enters a green cliff,
and the high pavilion stands sheer and looks down on a blue rainbow.
In the dawn chill a yellow calf goes home to the wide fields,
and at midday a secluded bird bathes in the shallow stream.
The ivy that fills the yard wraps the wall in darkness,
and the willow by the window presses the eaves down low.
If you would know that this place is remote and no one comes,
look at the deer tracks where the mud is deep outside the gate.
With my goitered look I am by nature a scholar of the immortals' company,
and I learn besides from the old monks of the hills.
I burn incense in the golden duck censer and go forward into the Buddha hall,
and when the wooden fish urges the gruel on I borrow a monk's bowl.
The pine wind is a desolate tune without strings,
and the misted peaks are a painting colored layer upon layer.
The world's flourishing and falling away is all a dream,
so do not sigh over the green yoke that was harnessed at Handan (邯鄲).