Classic Poem

River slopes, already into the midmonth of spring;
under the blossoms, bright mornings again:
I look up, eager to watch the birds;
turn my head, answering what I took for a call.
Reading books, I skip the difficult parts;
faced with wine, I keep my cup filled.
These days I've gotten to know the old man of Emei;
he understands this idleness that is my true nature.