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.