| 英譯： |
Claimed by our patriarchs to have survived
Two centuries, this quince tree by the river was
The reason that I cleared the weeds and built
My house behind to hear May cicadas.
The south-east wind arrived to shake the earth,
Overturn rivers, drive rocks and clouds uphill.
Still the quince grappled with the thunderstorm,
And if uprooted, was it Heaven's will?
This old tree that my nature loved upheld
Above the river a green canopy;
Its shade forbidding, cold as frost and snow,
Its leafy music stayed the passer-by.
Tiger and dragon overborne are cast
To nettles; tears but conjure memories.
Where should I go to meditate new rhymes?
Henceforth my cottage must be colourless.
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