Again Following the Rhymes of the Poem on the Newly Rented Thatched House又次新賃草屋詩韻
杜門無客到。煮茗與僧期。荷耒且學圃。歸田當有時。貧甘老去早。閑厭日斜遲。漸欲成衰病。踈慵不啻玆。
I shut the gate, and no guest comes; I brew tea and make an appointment with a monk. Shouldering a plow, I take up learning the kitchen garden too: surely there will be a time to return to the fields. Being poor, I find the early coming of age sweet; being idle, I dislike how slowly the sun declines. I am gradually growing worn and sick: my thinness and sloth are not only this.
Interlinear notes 1
五首
Five poems.
寓興撫桐孫。虛心對竹君。林深鵶哺子。園靜鳥呼群。坐石吟移日。開窓臥送雲。塵喧卽咫尺。閉戶不曾聞。
Lodging my mood in it, I stroke the young paulownia, and emptying my heart, I face the gentleman bamboo. The wood is deep, and the crow feeds its young; the garden is still, and the birds call their flock. Sitting on a stone I chant and move the sun along; opening the window I lie down and send the clouds off. The clamor of the dust is but a step away, but with my gate shut I have never heard it.
點點階苔紫。茸茸徑草靑。殘生浮似夢。破屋豁於亭。不省空囊倒。猶嫌一日醒。詩成誰復愛。自寫枕頭屛。
Dot by dot the moss on the steps is red, and thick and lush the grass by the path is green. What is left of my life floats like a dream, and my broken house is more open than a pavilion. I do not look to see that my empty purse is turned out, and still I dislike being sober for a day. Even if I finish a poem, who will love it now? I write it myself on the screen at my pillow.
心已如焦穀。人誰射毒沙。老於詩世界。謀却酒生涯。默笑觀時變。閑吟感物華。在家堪作佛。靈運已忘家。
My heart is already like scorched grain; who would shoot the poisoned sand? I grow old in the world of poetry and plan a lifetime of wine. Smiling in silence, I watch the times change; chanting at leisure, I am moved by the brightness of things. Even while at home one may become a Buddha: Xie Lingyun had already forgotten his home.
寧爲學稼老。恥作出貲郞。賦食籠狙類。忘機入鳥行。深藏玉自貴。不採蘭何傷。獨喜童烏輩。蹁躚繞我床。
I would rather be an old man learning to farm; it is shameful to pay out wealth and become a Court Gentleman (郞). They are the caged monkeys to whom food is doled out, and forgetting contrivance, I enter the birds' rank. Hidden deep, the jade is precious of itself; and if it is not picked, what harm comes to the orchid? Only the children, like Tong Wu (童烏), delight me, fluttering and circling about my couch.