鐔津文集 18.35

18.35

Rain washes the flock of peaks, their graceful beauty clearly divided; / with a staff and a pair of clogs we reach the pine gate. / Clouds at heaven's edge disperse, racing back to their caves; / woodcutters outside the isles return, each claiming their hamlet. / Having long worn the blue robe, my heart is already weary; / looking at one another with white hair, let us cease discussing worldly affairs. / Please inquire closely of the Old Man of Huangmei: / you must believe the river of Chan has a separate source.