I love Master Meng.
Free as a flowing breeze,
He is famous
Throughout the world.
In rosy youth, he cast away
Official cap and carriage.
Now, a white-haired elder, he reclines
Amid pines and cloud.
Drunk beneath the moon,
He often attains sagehood.
Lost among the flowers,
He serves no lord.
How can I aspire
to such a high mountain?
Here below, to his clear fragrance,
I bow.
Translated by Greg Whincup
Submitted by Edward McDonald
