Gathering Mulberry Leaves (II)
West Lake is fine for us in painted boat loaded with wine.
From pipes and strings comes music fast;
From hand to hand jade cups soon passed,
Secure on calming waves, drunk we lie.
Fleeting clouds seem to float beneath our moving boat.
The sky seems near to the dinersnow.
Looking up and below, we will not go away.
It seems there’s in the lake another sky.