Embracing the heavenly seasons defends sunlight,
A slight rain comes, defending and offending the outcome;
Frail vines never rest on this trail atop the cliffs,
And we are lost in thoughts with traces of rain.
Along golden streams mushrooms and thistle exist,
A long-ago student of the winds must have been afoot.
He was drunk with poetic words and phrases and waded
The broad streams with many esoteric ideas
About the owner of creation, the keeper of leaves.
The poet never knew visitors came to see his history,
In this unforgotten realm of total tranquillity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem