On the Ba plateau the wind and the rain are still;
You can see the wild geese in the evening, line after line.
Among leaves that fall from unfamiliar trees
I’m alone at night by the cold light of a lamp.
The white dew drips in my empty garden;
Beyond its solitary wall lives a rustic monk.
I’ve dwelt idly in this country cottage for a long time;
When can I devote my life to serving my lord?