135 Best Poems on the
He has a pure heart like a lake which is clean.
His surroundings are ease without anything.
Besides visitors asking for his paintings,
He has no self, no parting, no receiving.
Famous garden grows nice willows so crowded.
They form a forest with sunset so proud.
Fine arts of tow dynasties remembered.
Do not treat the public merits as clouds.
Red flowers float on blue sky in water fresh.
Nice things in old garden are going to perish.
There are only fish who still keep their pleasure.
Forgetting all things I'm as joyful as fish.
These two sages are white and pure as cream.
They pass through pines and bamboos in sunbeam.
Though their steps never defiled by scum,
Yet guided by the cloud to pass the stream.
Though the sage's altar becomes too black,
Famous hill still has its nice stone stack.
White clouds and red flowers do remain.
With half stanza he could call spring back.
Where is the place of Chin-Tai of the sage?
How can we hear its music of old age?
The green hill does reserve its holy trace.
The cold rattan there is hiding that stage.
On the lake though lotus leaves still lay.
Maple leaves fall off, hills alone stay.
Changeable are things of the universe.
Curved city wall encircles the Booth-Bay.
The lake is close to a bamboo site.
Waves form a picture that does excite.
Fish do like the pool with silent light,
Puff up small bubbles and pass through clouds white.
Waves' light and hills' beauty make me awake.
A wooden bridge is made for the view's sake.
I might be a fisher in my past life--
With two oars I occupied this West Lake.