Gathering Mulberry Leaves

Ouyang Xiu

Viewed from a light boat with short oars, West Lake is fair.

Green water winds along

The banks overgrown with sweet grass; here and there

Faintly we hear a flute song.

The water surface is smooth like glass when no wind blows;

I feel the boat moves no more.

Leaving ripples behind, it goes,

The startled waterbirds skim the flat sandy shore.