廬山記 4.127

4.127

香爐峯北面。遺愛寺西邊。白石何鑿。清流亦潺潺。有松數十株。有竹千餘竿。松張翠繖蓋。竹倚青琅玕。其下無人居。惜哉多歲年。有時聚猿鳥。終日空風煙。時有沈冥子。姓白字樂天。平生無所好。見此心依然。如獲終老地。忽乎不知還。架巖結茅宇。斸壑開茶園。何以洗我耳。屋頭落飛泉。何以淨我眼。砌下生白蓮。左手携一臺右手挈五絃。傲然意自足。箕踞於其間。興酣仰天歌。歌中聊寄言。我本野夫。誤為世網牽。時來昔捧日。老去今歸山。倦鳥得茂樹。涸魚反清源。捨此欲焉往。人間多險艱。

On the north face of Incense Burner Peak, / To the west of Yiai Temple: / How pure the white rocks are! / The clear stream also murmurs. / There are several dozen pine trees; / There are over a thousand bamboo stalks. / The pines spread out emerald parasols; / The bamboos lean like green jade poles. / Beneath them no person dwelled; / What a pity for so many years! / At times gibbons and birds gathered; / All day long, wind and mist hung in vain. / At that time there was a recluse, / Surnamed Bai, with the style Letian. / In his whole life he had no cravings; / Seeing this, his heart was moved as before. / As if having found a place to spend his old age, / All at once he forgot to return. / Resting upon the cliff, he built a thatched dwelling; / Hoeing the ravine, he laid out a tea plantation. / How to wash my ears? / Above the roof a flying cascade falls. / How to cleanse my eyes? / Below the steps white lotuses grow. / In my left hand I carry a wine jug; / In my right hand I hold a five-stringed zither. / Aloof and inwardly self-sufficient, / I sit with legs sprawled among them. / When high spirits reach their peak, I gaze at the sky and sing, / Entrusting these words into song: / 'I am originally a rustic man, / Mistakenly drawn into worldly nets. / When the time came, formerly I held up the sun; / Now growing old, I return to the mountains. / A weary bird finds a luxuriant tree; / A parched fish returns to a clear source. / Leaving this, where would I go? / In the mortal world there are many perils.'