25/07/2026
伯虎說
"The spring breeze drifts through the bamboo gate, endless and wide.
Quietly, I listen to the birds singing by the porch.
Yet where are the scholars now,
Gathering around a chessboard where heaven and earth are decided?
I borrow wine to lose myself,
While the smoke-darkened stove glows beneath the evening sky.
We sip from the same old pot of tea,
Holding onto countless untold stories.
No one asks a thing.
Gently, I brush away the dust,
And together we gaze upon a sky full of stars.
The moon of a thousand years knows nothing of past lives.
It shines upon the night, leaving only you awake.
Why, then, noble princes and honored sons,
Waste your youth searching for answers?
The moon of a thousand years knows nothing of past lives.
It shines upon the mortal world, where only you remain truly awake.
So why, O princes and men of status,
Keep questioning this fleeting human world?"
Meaning:
The spring breeze drifts through the bamboo gate,
Carrying birdsong across the quiet porch.
The scholars of old are nowhere to be found,
Though once they turned the fate of heaven and earth upon a chessboard.
I borrow wine to lose myself,
While the smoke-darkened stove glows at dusk.
Sharing an old pot of tea,
We hold close countless stories of the past.
No one asks after me anymore.
I gently brush away the dust,
And together we watch a sky filled with stars.
