When sleeping women wake, mountains move.
For a Friend -Du Fu- North and south of my cottage winds spring water green; I see but flocks of gulls coming from day to day. The footpath strewn with fallen blooms is not swept clean; My wicket gate is opened but for you today. Far from the market, I can afford but simple dish; Being not rich, I’ve only old wine for our cup. To drink with my neighbor if you wish, I’ll call him over the fence to finish the cup.
The water surface is smooth like glass when no wind blows. I feel the boat moves no more, Leaving ripples behind, it goes. Flute songs no longer sung and sightseers gone.
