| 英譯： |
Now the world is all behind me,
Never comes its echo here.
On the greybeard's staff supported
From the hills I see the farmers
Till the fruitage of the year.
Should a passer search to find me
Let him, like the man of yore,
Follow up the murmuring brooklet
Till he see the flowering peach tree
Standing by the cottage door.
Lost am I in lonely valleys,
Like to him who culling simples
In the forest's gloomy alleys
Entered to return no more.
Here, like travellers, the people,
Not like cherry neighbours greeting.
Ask each others' names on meeting.
Bird to bird from tree to tree
Pipes: "Who art thou that callest me?"
Though I wander, still and lone,
Lonely must my pleasures be.
Sorrowful and shamed I moan
Tha lack of talent exiles me.
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