孤舟蓑笠翁,独钓寒江雪
“From hill to hill no bird in flight;
From path to path no man in sight.
A lonely fisherman afloat,
HIs fishing snow in lonely boat.”
Translation, an ancient skill, is like a door ,sometimes close to us, while sometimes far from. With time going by, it seems that fewer and fewer people are pleased to stop and have a look, enjoying and feeling its mystery and luxury, its cadence and fragrance. translation could assist us read. which makes the cold words have abundant emotions ,ordinary strokes become vivid, the ink on the paper dense out of the light book.