Fame of a mountain comes not by its height,
but some great hermit it hosted;
Charm of a water springs not from its depth,
but the magic dragon it accomodates.
This humble place has little to offer,
yet is filled with the fragrance of my virtue.
Greenness cheers it when moss climbs on my doorsteps,
verdency brightens it when grass unveils through my window curtains.
With wit and laughter it draws the wise,
day in and day out it shuns fools.
Here I can play my cherished zither, and read my valuable books,
with no disturbance of worldly entertainment,
or weariness from burdensome work.
I would venture to compare it to Zhuge Kongming's cottage in Nanyang,
or Yangxiong's bower in Xishu,
even to compliment it with a quote by Confucius:
"What is humble here?"
