Qiao Ji

Winter and Cold,
The time of snow.
Who will be the withered plum's companion?
A fisherman's skiff
Is moored by an islet;
His coat of green reeds cannot keep out the wind and frost.
A fish takes the barb of his hook.
Wind
Blows his hair thin;
Frost
Chaps and cracks his hands.
...

Never counted among the dragons,
Never entered the lists of greats.
Always the wine sage,
Everywhere the verse seer.
...

I refine autumn mists in my alchemist stove
And heat pure snow in my tea boiler.
Blossoms fall and waters swirl by my thatch hut,
Like the spring breeze in places long lost.
...

In the hills among trees,
Hut of thatch secluded and fine.
Faded green pines, bright green of bamboos
Fit for a painting;
...