Each year, when peach flowers blossom,
We see again the old teacher
Display black ink and crimson paper
On the sidewalk busy with passers-by.
Many people hire him to write,
Praising in wonder his talent:
"His dexterous hand draws like
Dancing phoenix, flying dragon."
But each year, clients become rarer.
Where are you now calligraphy users?
Untouched red paper deep in sadness,
Unstirred ink gloomy inside the jar.
The teacher is still sitting there,
Pedestrians are unaware.
A yellow leaf falls on the paper
As dusty rain flies in the air.
This year, peach trees bloom again
Ancient teacher is not seen.
People from millennia past
Where are your souls now?