A full array of hooks and nets to support my old age;
Carrying wood and making twine will keep me till I die.
Lying back in a tiny boat watching the flying geese;
Reclining beside the grassy path and hearing the wild swans call.
I have no stall in the marketplace of tongues;
I've left no trace in the sea of disputation.
The nets hung to dry beside the brook are like brocade;
An axe well honed on rock is sharper than a spear.
Under the shining autumn moon I often fish alone;
I meet nobody on the solitary mountain in spring.
I trade my surplus fish for wine and drink it with my wife;
When I've wood to spare I buy a bottle and share it with my sons.
Singing and musing to myself I'm as wild as I care to be;
Long songs, long sighs, I can let myself be crazy.
I invite my brothers and cousins and fellow boatmen;
Leading my friends by the hand I meet the old man of the wilds.
As we play guess-fingers the cups fly fast;
When we make riddles the goblets slowly circulate.
Saute or boiled crab is a delight every morning;
Plenty of fried duck and chicken cooked in ashes every day.
As my simple wife brews tea, my spirits are untrammelled;
While my mountain spouse cooks supper, my mind is at ease.
At the coming of dawn I wash my stick in the ripples;
When the sun rises I carry firewood across the road.
After the rain I put on my cloak to catch live carp;
I wield my axe before the wind to fell a withered pine.
I cover my tracks and hide from the world, acting the imbecile;
I change my name and pretend to be deaf and dumb.
“Brother Li,” said Zhang Shao. “I unfairly took the first lines just now, so now it's your turn to compose the first lines while I follow you.” Thus they continued:
The man of the mountains acting mad under wind and moon;
The haughty and unwanted dotard of the river.
With his share of idleness, and able to be quite free;
No sound from his voice as he revels in his peace.
On moonlit nights he sleeps secure in a cottage of thatch;
He lightly covers himself at dusk with clothes of reed.
His passion spent, he befriends the pine and the plum;
He is happy to be the companion of cormorant and gull.
Fame and profit count for nothing in his mind;
His ears have never heard the clash of arms.
One is always pouring out fresh rice-wine,
The other has wild vegetable soup with every meal.
One makes a living with two bundles of firewood;
The other supports himself with rod and line.
One idly tells his innocent son to sharpen the axe of steel;
The other quietly bids his slow-witted child to mend the nets.
In spring one likes to see the willows turning green;
When the seasons change the other enjoys the rushes' blue.
Avoiding the summer heat, one trims the new bamboo;
The other gathers water-chestnuts on cool July evenings.
When frost begins, plump chickens are killed each day;
In mid-autumn the crabs are at their best and always in the pot.
When the sun rises in winter, the one is still asleep;
The other keeps cool in the dog days of summer.
Throughout the year one does as he pleases in the hills;
In all four seasons the other is happy on the lake.
By gathering firewood you can become an Immortal;
There is nothing worldly about fishing.
Sweet smell the wild flowers growing outside my door;
Smooth are the green waves lapping at my boat.
A contented man never speaks of high honors;
A settled nature is stronger than a city wall.
Higher than a city wall for resisting enemy armies;
More illustrious than holding high office and listening to imperial decrees.
Those who are happy with mountains and rivers are few indeed;
Thank Heaven, thank Earth, and thank the spirits.
When the two of them had recited their verses and matched couplets they came to the place where their ways parted and bowed to each other to take their leave. “Brother Li,” said Zhang Shao, “look after yourself on your way home and keep a sharp look-out for tigers up in the hills. If you met with an accident then 'an old friend would be missing on the road tomorrow.'“ This made Li Ding angry.
“You scoundrel,” he said, “I'm your friend; I'd die for you. How could you put such a curse on me? If I'm killed by a tiger, you'll be capsized by a wave.”
“I'll never be capsized!” retorted Zhang Shao.
“'In nature there are unexpected storms and in life unpredictable vicissitudes,'“ quoted Li Ding, “so how can you be sure you'll never have an accident?”
“Brother Zhang,” replied the fisherman, “despite what you just said, it's your life that's insecure, whereas my life is certain: I'm sure that I shan't have an accident.”
“Your life on the water is very dangerous and insecure,” said the woodcutter, “so how can you be so certain?”
“There's something you don't know,” said Zhang Shao. “Every day I give a golden carp to a fortune-teller on the West Gate Street in Chang'an, and he passes a slip into my sleeve telling me I'll catch something every time provided I go to the right place. I went to buy a forecast from him today, and he told me that if I cast my nets to the East of the bend in the Jing River and lowered my lines on the Western bank, I would be bound to get a full load of fish and shrimps to take home. Tomorrow I shall go into town to sell them to buy wine, and we can continue our talk then, brother.” With this they parted.
How true it is that if you talk on the road there will be someone listening in the grass. A patrolling yaksha from the Jing River Palace overheard Zhang Shao's remark about always catching fish and rushed straight back to the palace of crystal to make an urgent report of disaster to the dragon king.
“What disaster?” asked the dragon king, and the yaksha replied, “Your subject was patrolling in the water by the river's edge when I heard a fisherman and a woodcutter talking. Just when they were parting they sounded very dangerous. The fisherman said that there is a soothsayer on West Gate Street in Chang'an city whose predictions are very accurate. The fisherman gives him a golden carp every day, and he hands the fisherman a slip saying that he'll catch fish at every attempt. If his calculations are so accurate, won't all we water folk be wiped out? Shall we fortify the water palace, or shall we make some leaping waves to strengthen Your Majesty's prestige?”
The dragon king seized his sword in a great rage, intending to go straight to Chang'an city and destroy this fortune-teller, but then his dragon sons and grandsons, shrimp officials, crab soldiers, shad generals, mandarin-fish ministers, and carp premier submitted a joint memorial that read: “We beg Your Majesty not to act in anger. As the saying goes, 'words overheard are not to be trusted.' If Your Majesty were to go now you would have to be accompanied by clouds and helped by rain; and if this frightens the common people of Chang'an, Heaven may take offence. Your Majesty is capable of making all sorts of transformations, and of appearing and vanishing unexpectedly; so you should change into a scholar for this visit to Chang'an. If you find that it is true, you will be able to punish him at your leisure; and if it turns out to be false, you will avoid killing an innocent man.” Taking their advice, the dragon king put aside his sword, and without raising clouds or rain he climbed out on the back, shook himself, and turned into a scholar dressed in white. He was
Handsome and noble,
Towering into the clouds.
His step was stately
And he observed the rules of conduct.