Colophon by Chen Mei (20th Century), signed Chen Mei, dated guiyou (1933), autumn, and two seals, mei yin lou, chen mei
Titleslip by Tang Hung, signed Hong, dated xinhai (1981), spring, and two seals, tang hong zhi yin, chun zhi chang shou
With two collector's seals of Tang Hung, fei hong, gu cheng jiu jia, tang hong (2)
The Peach Blossom Spring
Waves of the lake wash up on three sides of the peninsula. Fishing boats often dock at this land of a hundred peach trees.
The graceful women of Panglai make me forget the mortal world. The ripples on the lake obscure this hidden world.
Narrow roads, lotus ponds, and wafts of white smoke. A small pavilion, bamboo groves, autumnal greenery shrouded in mist.
Flowers blossom and petals fall; it's springtime on the mountain. Those who have fled wander in heaven.
I have traveled between heaven and the secular world seven times, but today I play in the secular world.
I cannot leave behind the common folks, therefore I choose to survive among houses made of trees and rocks.
Hibiscus and bamboo fencing mark the route to my thatched hut. Luxuriant forests and slender bamboo resist the craggy peaks.
I build my hut in the secular world, but my mind is still far away. My sigh reaches high heaven and blows open the nine heavenly gates.
I live secluded within a bamboo grove and cannot see the sky. Ascending the mountain is difficult, and the steps are winding.
The high hill and numerous bamboos give way to clouds and rain. The pavilion on the precipice reaches up to the misty moon.
I slowly climb to the tops of green trees. Leaning on a bamboo staff, I emerge on the mountain crag.
Suddenly the skies clear of their own accord, and I am able to take in all the mountains and rivers around West Lake.
On Yitian Mountain there is a high platform. My breathing is calm, and the clouds open up in all directions.
On three sides are rings of mountains, and on three sides are rivers. There are thousands of pine branches crowding each other, and thousands of plum branches as well.
Sun and moon are spit out and swallowed up under the southern pavilion. Gathering and dissipating misty storms come in from the East Sea.
Across the calm waters of West Lake, boats ply among thousands of houses. That I, an old man, could climb this high and look out on this scene excited me for a long while.
My eldest daughter Tongwei, whom I haven't seen for eight years, came to take care of me. In the first lunar month of guihai (1923), we happily wandered to and from my hut Rentianlu in the West Lake area. In autumn of 1922 I wrote these poems and gave them to Tongwei.
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