In the Sixth Month of 408, Fire

I built my thatched hut in a narrowlane,

Glad to renounce the carriages of the great.

In midsummer, while the wind blew long and sharp,

Of a sudden grove and house caught fire and burned.

In all the place not a roof was left to us

And we took shelter in the boat by the gate.

Space is vast this early autumn evening,

The moon, nearly full, rides high above.

The vegetables begin to grow again

But the frightened birds still have not returned.

Tonight I stand a long time lost in thought;

A glance encompasses the Nine Heavens.

Since youth I've held my solitary course

Until all at once forty years have passed.

My outward form follows the way of change

But my heart remains untrammelled still.

Firm and true, it keeps its constant nature,

No jadestone is as strong, adamantine.

I think back to the time when East-Gate ruled

When there was grain left out in the fields

And people, free of care, drummed full bellies,

Rising mornings and coming home to sleep.

Since I was not born in such a time,

Let me just go on watering my garden.