Oh, let me go home, for my garden is almost forlorn. Why should I be sad, since my mind is enslaved by body? Let bygones be bygones, for future there’s still a chance. Luckily I was not lost too far, now I do the right despite the wrongs I did in the past. Lightly my boat sways on the journey home, while a fair wind caresses my robe. I inquire from a traveler about the road further down and hate the twilight of this late arriving dawn.
As I see my house, I run forward in glee. My children wait at the door and servants welcome me. The three paths are grassy indeed, but the pine and mums are still there. Leading the young into the house, I see the filled wineware. Pouring from the kettle I drink to the content of my heart and am pleased to squint at the tree in my yard. Leaning on the south window I savor my pride. Examining the narrow room I feel it makes me feel at ease. My pleasure now is in walking around the garden everyday and the gates stand there in vain because always closed they stay. Walking with my cane I stop here and there. Sometimes I look up into the sky knowing not of what I’m aware. Clouds, with no intention, fly out of the hills. Birds, tired of flying, are returning to their nests. The sun, now less bright, is falling down to horizon, I still want to stay a while longer, feeling the pine alone.
Let me go home, and decline socializing。The world and I do not see eye to eye, why bother going out my cart driving? I like to listen to my kins’ chatting and dilute my sorrows with music and reading. Farmers tell me spring is coming and they are going to the west field working. I may drive my cart or row my boat, to explore secluded places or to hike the bumpy hilly road. Luxuriously trees and shrubs grow. A gurgling stream does there flow. I wonder how timely all the lives thrive and lament my own that is coming to its time.
Let it be, then. We have only temporary existence. Why don’t we use our own will to make decisions? For what do we feel restless as if we need to go somewhere? Riches are not what I desire, nor do I expect not to expire. Why not enjoy the good time that is here or weed the fields to help seedlings there? Mounting the east height I shout heartily. By the clear stream I chant some poetry. Following Nature I travel my due course and have no doubt about the life bestowed by universe!
