Translation of untitled poem: The wind is up. Remnants of summer’s heat dissipate. Alone with my staff: calmly, I take pleasure in this. In the color of the countryside, I prolong quiet steps. Against the sound of autumn, I enter the later years of life. The sun’s ray slant. The shadows of birds are confused. The water level drops. The roots of trees are suspended. I turn my head. An old friend is faraway. Someone plays a frontier pipe in evening mists.