Old age think good quiet

Everything not concern heart

Self attend without great plan

Empty know return old forest

Pine wind blow undo belt

Hill moon light pluck qin

Gentleman ask end open reason

Fisherman song enter riverbank deep

Now in old age， I know the value of silence，

The world's affairs no longer stir my heart.

Turning to myself， I have no greater plan，

All I can do is return to the forest of old.

Wind from the pine trees blows my sash undone，

The moon shines through the hills； I pluck the qin.

You ask me why the world must rise and fall，

Fishermen sing on the steep banks of the river.