Shaking my head, I left the world of red dust,
No longer caring when to be sober, when drunk.
My livelihood–the green grass cloak and the straw hat;
I’m used to wearing frost and braving snow.

When night falls, the wind settles and the fishing line lies idle.
Above and below is the new moon.
For a thousand miles, water and sky are the same color.
Watch the single wild goose appear and disappear!

translated by James J.Y. Liu