Worldly affairs drift on and on, not as good as the hills. Green pines shade the sun, blue streams are always autumn-like. Mountain clouds serve as curtains, the night moon as a hook. Lying beneath the vines, a stone block for a pillow. I don't attend the emperor's court, why envy lords and princes? With no worry about life and death, what else is there to worry about? All dharmas are thus, originally never born. Sitting idle with nothing to do, when spring comes the grass naturally turns green.