Without talent, who dares burden so brilliant an era!
Today my thoughts turn toward the east river where I still keep my old retreat...
Do I condemn Shang P'ing who married off his children early?
Or disagree with T'ao Ch'ien who retired too late?
Crickets chirp urgently among the grasses as fall hurries past.
In the mountains the desolate cry of the cicadas disturbs the dusk.
No longer do people stop at my deserted gate.
I am left alone with white clouds in this empty forest.