鐔津文集 17.14

17.14

The wind blows a wisp of cloud / That scatters into spring rain. / It sprinkles upon my pine and cypress forest; / Lush and verdant, the branches may be gathered. / Holding fast to this integrity that withstands the cold of the year, / In my hands it remains empty and forlorn. / To the secluded valley no one comes; / As the sun sets, with whom can I share my thoughts?