Song of peach blossom land
A fisherman loved vernal hills and winding stream,
His boat between the shores, he saw peach blossoms beam.
He knew not how far he’d gone, charmed by blooming scene,
Up to the end of the stream not a man was seen.
At the foot of a hill he found a winding way,
Beyond the hills a plain extended far, far away.
Viewed from afar, the forest seemed to scrape the sky,
Bamboos and flowers scattered in houses nearby.
A woodman told him a name used long, long ago,
People were dressed, in a style now no one would know.
As they had lived together in Peach Blossom Land,
Beyond the bustle fields were tilled with plough in hand.
Under moonlit pines cots looked quiet in the dark,
Up to sunlit clouds cocks’ crow was heard with dogs’ bark.
Curious about the stranger, people came from up and down,
Led him to their cottages and asked about the town.
Fallen petals on the lane were swept clean by day,
At dusk fishermen and woodsmen on homeward way.
Their fathers left the war-torn land to flee from woe,
This fairyland was found, away they would not go.
Deep in the vale, no one cared about world affair;
Gazing afar, they longed for cloud and mountain air.
Knowing not such fairy land was hard to he refound,
The fisherman longed to go back to his native ground.
He left the place and passed over mountains and streams,
But how could he forget the scene of his dear dreams?
He thought, having come once, he would not go astray,
Without knowing peak and stream would change on the way.
Last time he came, he only knew the mountain deep,
But memory of cloudy way he did not keep.
When spring came, everywhere he saw peach blossoms nice,
But where could he find again his lost paradise?