The house of the lonely scholar is in the winding lane.

The great scholar's gate is very high.

The garden pool lies and shines like the magic gall mirror;

Groves of trees throw up flowers with wide, open faces;

The leaf-coloured water draws the Spring sun.

Sitting in the green, covered passage-way, watching the strange, red clouds of evening,

Listening to the lovely music of flageolets and strings,

The Golden Valley is not much to boast of.