瑞鹤仙·僧家
郑燮
茅庵欹欲倒，
倩老树撑扶，
白云环绕。
林深无客到，
有涧底呜泉，
谷中幽鸟。
清风来扫，
扫落叶尽归炉灶。
好闭门煨芋挑灯，
灯尽芋香天晓。
非矫，
也亲贵胄，
也踏红尘，
终归霞表。
残衫破衲，
补不彻，
缝不了。
比世人少却几茎头发，
省得许多烦恼。
向佛前烧炷香儿，
闲眠一觉。
Tune: Jui-ho hsien
(An Immortal on an Auspicious Crane)
Title: The Monk
Cheng Hsien
The thatched temple, leaning toward collapse,
Is supported by an ancient tree,
Encircled by white clouds.
The forest deep, no visitors arrive,
But a spring babbles at the bottom of the brook
In the valley of hidden birds.
Gentle winds come to sweep
And sweep the fallen leaves into the stove,
So he may close the door, bake potatoes, trim the lamp.
The lamp expires, potatoes smell sweet, day dawns.
No fakery—
Though he hobnobs with nobility.
Though he treads the red dust,
Still he always returns to the rosy clouds;
Tattered shirt, frazzled patches,
Unmendable,
Unsewable.
He has less hair than a man of the world,
But fewer troubles, too.
He lights incense before the Buddha,
Takes a nap at ease.
（Jan W. Walls 译）
