Courtyard Full of Fragrance
For fame as vain as a snail’s horn
And profit as slight as a fly’s head,
Should I be busy and forlorn?
Fate rules for long,
Who is weak? Who is strong?
Not yet grown old and having leisure，
Let me be free to enjoy pleasure!
Could I be drunk in a hundred years,
Thirty-six hundred times without shedding tears?
Think how long life can last,
Though sad and harmful storms I’ve passed.
Why should I waste my breath Until my death,
To say the short and long Or right and wrong?
I am happy to enjoy clear breeze and the moon bright,
Green grass outspread And a canopy of cloud white.
The Southern shore is fine With a thousand cups of wine
And the courtyard fragrant with song.