Visiting the Mountain Grove of General He in the Company of Instructor Zheng
IX
On his couch, books piled to the ceiling,
before his stairs trees brush the clouds.
The general is not fond of martial things,
his children are all good at writing.
He sobers from ale when the faint breeze enters,
listening to poems, the still night passes midpoint.
Thin clothes, the hanging moss,
cool moon, white diffused everywhere.