鐔津文集 18.9

18.9

Snow fills the western mountains, spring has not yet returned; / spring sounds freeze into sobs, bird calls grow sparse. / Quietly observing the visual realm, the human world feels faint and vast; / driving away the poetry demon, it flies beyond the heavens. / For a single meal I always take pine needles as food; / in the great cold I again change into paper for robes. / I cherish poetry as your family affair; / let us further agree to discuss the mind to the finest subtleness.