True friends are few, but it’s the shared experience of hardship that matters.
Friends are few, but it's the shared journey through storms that matters.
When times are prosperous, who wouldn't want to serve? But to whom should one dedicate oneself?
A humble scholar abandons his books and studies, drifting through a life of ease like a dream.
Upon arriving, only old names remain; wood cannot serve as a bed or a mat.
The quickest way to turn is with a casual movement; it's better to be mindful of oneself.
Once a beautiful woman, now etched in poems, lost in the kindness of the rain.
I lament more the inability to meet a fragrant soul, for in the end, good deeds accomplish nothing.
Those who return after hardship, seek only a comfortable existence; let their names be inscribed on White Cloud Tower.
Who claims to be a master talent, whose beauty fades and disappears?
The sound of parting echoes, a fledgling bird lost; the dragon dream shattered, the moon fades in the imperial capital.
