High beyond the thick wall a tower shines with sunset

Where peach and plum are blooming and the willowcotton flies.

You have heard in your office the court-bell of twilight；

Birds find perches， officials head for home.

Your morning-jade will tinkle as you thread the golden palace；

You will bring the word of Heaven from the closing gates at night.

And I should serve there with you； but being full of years，

I have taken off official robes and am resting from my troubles.