Having exterminated cleverness and discarded learning,
my mind wanders in the deep and the tranquil:
Not regretting if I committed an error,
nor making a show when meeting with success.
Fishing in a deep valley,
I enjoy my own world.
With my hair down, I stroll and sing,
and harmonious air suffuses all around me.
O! Sing and celebrate —
my mind wanders in the deep and tranquil.
The tumbling dandelion puff leaves its roots,
drifts whirling, moving with the wind
Vast are the paths over the four seas,
on and on, how can they be traversed?
I would rather be the floating duckweed,
lodging myself in the clear pool.
I would take pleasure in the present—
what comes afterward is not known.
So is it not with me as with that Muse
Stirr’d by a painted beauty to his verse,
Who heaven itself for ornament doth use,
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse;
Making a couplement of proud compare,
With sun and moon, with earth and sea’s rich gems,
With April’s ﬁrst-born ﬂowers, and all things rare
That heaven’s air in this huge rondure hems.
O, let me, true in love, but truly write,
And then believe me, my love is as fair
As any mother’s child, though not so bright
As those gold candles ﬁxt in heaven’s air:
Let them say more that like of hearsay well;
I will not praise that purpose not to sell.
How solitary it is!
Hanging on a nail —
How tranquil it is!
Penetrating into the rocks
the sound of cicadas.
Amid cloudy mists,
in a second its view has changed
one hundred times.
The misty rain —
the day unable to see Fuji
leaves great charm.