Tired of the world's vanity, I'll accompany you to retreat below the mountains and live a pastoral life

Below the mountain there is a house, before the house a stream

By the stream there are trees, beneath the trees flowers

On the flowers butterflies, wings aquiver, about to fly

Flowers bloom and fall, gentle water flows on

At the foot of the mountain are two wooden houses we built

One for ourselves, one to host friends

The houses need not be tall, two storeys will do

But there must be many windows, to see the mountains far and the fields near

In the fields below the mountain we plant broad stretches of wheat

On both sides of the wheat field, flowers and grasses line the way

You and I bend to the fine tending,

Harvesting a down-to-earth happiness

Gradually forgetting the sorrows of the world

Beside the fields is a vegetable garden I cleared

Through all four seasons, every kind of melon, fruit and vegetable keeps coming

The cucumber and green beans you love, the eggplant and potatoes I like...

At the garden's edge is the half-mu square pond you dug

A channel cut to draw water, fish raised and lotus planted

In summer and autumn we row out to pick lotus seeds, in winter and spring we wade in to dig lotus roots

The days are plain, but the joy is endless

Our life has no great fish or meat, only radishes and greens

Cucumbers with dew on them, extra sweet and crisp

Tomatoes as big as a bowl's mouth, full of juice

Three meals a day, simple and plain,

Just like how we feel right now

Our life has no traffic and bustle, only comings and goings

People on the road, whether we know them or not, all nod in greeting

The fence before the house keeps out neither people nor hearts

In the small courtyard we set out a table and brew a pot of tea

Chatting with friends and neighbours about everything under the sun, the small matters of home

Our life has no neon flicker, no turning night to day

Only four distinct seasons, day and night in turn

In spring the flowers bloom in profusion, in summer the woods grow deep and lush

In autumn the hills turn red all over, in winter all is wrapped in silver

We work at sunrise and rest at sunset

When the first ray of light reaches the bed, we wake slowly

When the glow of evening falls on the mountainside, we stroll lazily home

With no time chasing us, we feel utterly steady and at ease

We go bare-faced, following our hearts

Not worrying that our skin will tan

Nor fearing that we will grow old

In the mirror there is only contentment, no resentment

Life will not make things hard for us

When truly weary, learn to let go and to be content

Adjust your mindset, set out anew

And you will always find green hills and clear waters

Life is too short, no need for great wealth and honour

Leave yourself some time for pastoral idylls

To see the fresh rain on empty hills, white clouds like smoke

To feel the joy of "planting beans by the southern hill, picking chrysanthemums by the eastern fence"

Only then is our one visit to this world not in vain!