Matching the Rhymes of the Poem in Which Kim Ingyeong (金仁鏡), Transmitter of Decrees (承制), Thanked Seon Master Gyu for Giving Him the Folding Screen of an Old Juniper Painted by the Venerable Gwiil — Two Poems次韻金承制仁鏡謝規禪師贈歸一上人所畫老檜屛風二首

That Master Wu painted the juniper was truly to paint the living thing, for with a rush a clear wind seems about to rise. He said himself that if a man would depict the creatures of the sea, he must first become for ten years an old man who fishes; and that my painting of the juniper is no makeshift learning, but a thing I can do because, white-haired, I have dwelt in the mountains. The pine's body with the cypress's leaves has deeply caught the marvel of it, and only now do I know that old Wu's words were just. I too have looked my fill at old Wu's brush, and at a glance I am like an old merchant who knows east from west. What the Seon master keeps is stranger and finer still, and sweeps the swarm of vulgar paintings wholly away. The sons of the noble houses (侯門) squandered gold and silk, and sought it without getting it, their devices already exhausted. It is because you alone are an unfettered man that in a single morning he parted with it and sent it to your study. Were it not so, how should the common world keep it? It would be like playing the 「Shao」 (韶) and the 「Huo」 (濩) to a deaf man. I wish that you may enjoy long years like this tree, and that without decocting elixirs your face may turn back to a child's.

From of old, in discussing painting, pine and cypress were prized, for men loved that they have the bearing of a lonely gentleman. What has the pine for elder brother and the cypress for younger is called hoe (檜), and it too is like a towering old man with a green beard. The mountain man of Jiangnan was fond of painting pines, and in his later years he was best of all at painting the juniper. Where did the Seon master come by this picture, and send it to His Lordship of Gyerim above the sky? The Gyerim Academician's breast and bearing are antique, and standing like jade, his clear mark shines over Haedong. Our Seon master, having a purpose, would make plain its upright constancy, and gave it without grudging that his abbot's chamber be left bare. His Lordship of Gyerim, getting the picture, was too glad to sleep, and facing the wall he chanted and savored it, his heart without end. The poem he made to depict its form is better even than the picture, and ten thousand fathoms piercing the sky arose within his breast. Where he casts out that sound of metal I incline my ear, and listening straight on, before I know it my deafness is startled open. To look at the poem and savor it is like seeing the picture — why must one face the green, green thing in person?