The poetry reads:
Outside the city, where is the foliage most lush?
By the decorated walls where the setting sunlight
flters through the pine forest.
A single note comes from the pure sounding-stone,
and the sky seems like water,
At evening on the river the refection of the
moon is like frost.
The monks are calm at this remote place,
and I often visit,
Floating like a cloud from my government offce;
I am painted when I must depart.
On the trellis are grapes like ten thousand pearls,
The autumn wind must have remembered that
this old man loves to eat them.
Translated by Jonathan Chaves