When I Withdraw from the Office There Is Not a Thing to Do退公無一事
1The first poem
退公無一事。寂寞似孤村。頭岸鹿胎幘。身遮犢鼻褌。虎來猶白日。蚊噆未黃昏。笑矣殘城守。徒勞夢掖垣。
When I withdraw from the office there is not a thing to do, and it is as desolate as an out-of-the-way village. On my head I wear a deerskin kerchief pushed back, and on my body I have thrown a single pair of short breeches. The tiger comes down even in broad daylight, and the mosquitoes bite before the sun has even set. How laughable — the worn-out magistrate of a district, who idly dreams of the Side Wall (掖垣)!
Interlinear notes 1
七首
There are seven poems.
2The second poem
退公無一事。高臥北軒風。壞壁蛇遺蛻。荒階蟻曳蟲。睡餘浮眼纈。病後落頭蓬。笑矣殘城守。形容劇野翁。
When I withdraw from the office there is not a thing to do, and I lie high in the wind on the north hall floor. On the crumbled wall a snake has left its slough, and on the rough stone steps the ants drag an insect along. After waking from sleep, flickering patterns float before my eyes, and after being ill my tangled mugwort hair falls out. How laughable — the worn-out magistrate of a district, whose looks are worse than a country old man's!
3The third poem
退公無一事。暑氣謾蒸人。吟久巾欹領。眠多簟印身。碁閑遊毒手。酒盡錮饞脣。笑矣殘城守。生涯老更貧。
When I withdraw from the office there is not a thing to do, and the hot air steams a man to no purpose. From long chanting my kerchief tilts onto my collar, and from much sleeping the pattern of the bamboo mat is printed on my body. Since the baduk is idle, I make sport of fierce moves, and since the wine is gone, I seal up my greedy lips. How laughable — the worn-out magistrate of a district, whose household grows the poorer the older he gets!
4The fourth poem
退公無一事。默坐念空王。飢鼠登書架。幽禽入印床。不堪消永日。聊喜向斜陽。笑矣殘城守。無由放舊狂。
When I withdraw from the office there is not a thing to do, and I sit in silence and think of the Buddha. The starving mouse climbs the bookshelf, and a secluded bird comes in upon the seal table. The long day was hard to endure, but it is pleasant enough that the sun is sinking. How laughable — the worn-out magistrate of a district, who has no way to let go of his old mad spirit!
5The fifth poem
退公無一事。白首若孤囚。未識邦侯樂。空思法從遊。朝廷天共遠。日月水同流。笑矣殘城守。貪官莫退休。
When I withdraw from the office there is not a thing to do, and with my white hair I am like a lonely prisoner. I do not know the pleasures of a district magistrate, and idly think only of the days when I attended the king at his roaming. The court is far off along with the sky, and the sun and the moon flow away along with the water. How laughable — the worn-out magistrate of a district, who covets office and cannot withdraw!
6The sixth poem
退公無一事。門外吏人稀。耳靜嫌蟬噪。身拘羨鳥飛。屋矮頭可觸。地窄手難揮。笑矣殘城守。何時告滿歸。
When I withdraw from the office there is not a thing to do, and outside the gate even the clerks are few. My ears being quiet, I hate even the crying of the cicadas, and my body being bound, I envy the birds their flying. The house is so low that my head seems to touch it, and the ground so narrow that it is hard even to swing my arms. How laughable — the worn-out magistrate of a district — when shall he report that his term is full and go home?
7The seventh poem
退公無一事。散髮自逍遙。對客蒸蔬菜。呼兒灌藥苗。顔因猒世變。首爲望京翹。笑矣殘城守。剛膓老赤銷。
When I withdraw from the office there is not a thing to do, and letting down my hair I roam of myself. Facing my guest, I steam the greens, and calling the boy, I water the sprouts of the medicinal herbs. My face has changed from being sick of the world, and my head is lifted from gazing toward the capital. How laughable — the worn-out magistrate of a district, whose stout bowels too have all melted away with age!