Song of a Fisherman

Inscriptions

Front piece "Mind is not in caching fish" Artist’s inscription ( a long poem ) Most men of the world fish with crooked hook; I alone trust in hooks, but never in fancy baits. After rain, I carry my long pole to the terrace edge And dangle it from among pines and clouds above the ripples of chi’s. Softly, gently, a light breeze caresses my face, And, o’er the water, peach-blossoms in the dew Show off their first blush. Beneath a cluster of leaves, warbling orioles cry all day And in a trice all fragrant blossoms also fade and Lie strewn about. Have you not seen all the lush groves and gardens of old? Facing pairs of copper dragons sprouting sweet scents By an overflowing pool? When an imperial carriage visits the pond, all Vagrant small grasses go into hiding, Then perfumed embroideries, purple sashes appear like cloud-formations. But how many times has this place known wars and battles? And today only foxes and rabbits lord over the high plains at nightfall. Once I had driven my carriages out of Eastern Brightness, At dawn I inquired from travelers about the road ahead. Vermillion pavilions, carmine towers beckoned from afar, And I was lost among flowers and mist, Above or below the illusory silver Bridge. Now home, in lowliness and poverty, I sought Contentment by the eastern river. Between heave and earth, low and high ranks exist side by side; Together they spring up, Together they flourish. Who, without looking all around, won’t Revere the earliest light of the dawn That renews, freshens each scene and object? Myriad things and I rejoice in the same spring: Would I still follow the crowd of slimy profiteers? Bending objects to lure fish harms perfect goodness! (translated by Irving Yucheng Lo) artist's seals. clophon by Zhang Heng