道由白云尽,春与清溪长。
时有落花至,远随流水香。
闲门向山路,深柳读书堂。
幽映每白日,清辉照衣裳。
On a road outreaching the white clouds,
By a spring outrunning the bluest river,
Petals come drifting on the wind
And the brook is sweet with them all the way.
My quiet gate is a mountain-trail,
And the willow-trees about my cottage
Sift on my sleeve, through the shadowy noon,
Distillations of the sun.