A Fisherman渔翁

Under western cliff a fisherman passes the night;

At dawn he makes bamboo fire to boil water clean.

Mist clears off at sunrise but there’s no man in sight;

Only the fisherman’s song turns hill and rill green.

He goes down mid-stream and turns to look on the sky.

What does he see but clouds freely wafting on high.

渔翁夜傍西岩宿，晓汲清湘燃楚竹。（剩余22字）