| 英譯： |
Said T'ao,
I love my hut;
I too love my room.
In my room lute and books
with which
to comfort the lone forlorn.
Time: halfway through the third month—
Flowers fall
but thick green
the grass in the courtyard.
On the roof at dawn
the pigeon sings,
from my window
spring sleep suffices.
It suffices,
I get up
sit in idleness,
neither comb
nor wash
till sun is high.
No religious fast
on this day
so the kitchen servant
sends in
fish and meat.
Starved,
I eat and drink as I wish;
cold and hot things
accord with my tastes.
When the meal is over
I delight in scratching my head,
nothing to bind
my sinews and frame.
I don't merely
extend my limbs,
even eyes and ears
on the verge
of being forgotten;
I don't just
avail myself
of the green
in the wine-cup
but can emulate
the red pine,
the lofty royal trees
of the Immortals.
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