歲惟丁卯，律中無射。天寒夜長，風氣蕭索，鴻雁于征，草木黃落。陶子將辭逆旅之館，永歸于本宅。故人凄其相悲，同祖行于今夕。羞以嘉蔬，薦以清酌。候顏已冥，聆音愈漠。嗚呼哀哉！

It is September of the lunar year Dingmao. It becomes chilly in the autumn nights as the long southbound journey of geese begins to fly over and the trees and grass have started to wither. I, Tao Qian, will soon leave my temporary lodging in this world and return to the eternal place where I belong. Tonight, my old acquaintances, in grief, will come to pay tribute and say farewell to me. They will contribute fresh fruits and wine for me. They will also take a last look at my murky face and try to listen to my words of silence. Sad, oh so sad!  

茫茫大塊，悠悠高旻，是生萬物，余得為人。自余為人，逢運之貧，簞瓢屢罄，絺绤冬陳。含歡谷汲，行歌負薪，翳翳柴門，事我宵晨，春秋代謝，有務中園，載耘載籽，乃育乃繁。欣以素牘，和以七弦。冬曝其日，夏濯其泉。勤靡余勞，心有常閑。樂天委分，以至百年。

The immense earth and sky raise everything, including myself. Since I was a human, poverty has been my fate; scarcity has always been with my bowls and ladles and my body in summer clothes in the winter. Still, I fetch water from the valley with gaiety and sing the songs while carrying firewood. Behind the murky and shaky wood door, I am busy from morning until evening, from spring to fall. I always have work to do on the fields, weeding and cultivating to make crops grow. When I read books, there is happiness; when I play the zither, there is harmony. In the winter, I bask in the sunshine, while in the summertime, I bathe in the mountain spring. Though I always work hard on the fields, my heart often stays at home with composure. Because I have already resigned myself to the arrangement of my fate till the end of my days!

惟此百年，夫人愛之，懼彼無成，愒日惜時。存為世珍，歿亦見思。嗟我獨邁，曾是異茲。寵非己榮，涅豈吾緇？捽兀窮廬，酣飲賦詩。識運知命，疇能罔眷。余今斯化，可以無恨。壽涉百齡，身慕肥遁，從老得終，奚所復戀！

Everybody cherishes life in this world, trying to utilize every minute so as not to miss anything. When he lives, he wants to be venerated; when he dies, he wishes he was still memorable. But the lamentable thing is that I am an exception, quite different from others. I disdain worldly praise, so how could I be influenced by mundane things? I am proud of myself for living in a humble cottage, in which I am free to drink and write poems. Because I fully realize my fate and luck, Heaven cannot impose restraints upon me. Now I am going to leave this world, from which I have had no regrets at all. In seniority, I am still attached to a secluded life; therefore, I can say I have a happy ending to my life; what else can I linger my heart on in the world?

寒暑愈邁，亡既異存，外姻晨來，良友宵奔，葬之中野，以安其魂。窅窅我行，蕭蕭墓門，奢恥宋臣，儉笑王孫，廓兮已滅，慨焉已遐，不封不樹，日月遂過。匪貴前譽，孰重后歌？人生實難，死如之何？鳴呼哀哉！

Time elapses.  After all, death is quite different from living, so the next-of-kin of mine come in the morning and the old acquaintances in the evening to pay me a tribute. They buried me in a forlorn field to rest my soul. I am going to an unknown netherworld, and the rustling wind seems to be blowing the tomb gate open. I am ashamed of having a luxurious tomb like Huan of Song, but I also feel ridiculous about the too-shabby burial pertaining to Yang of Han. My body has perished, and my soul is going to a faraway place. Please do not plant trees around my tomb, for time will carry everything away. Since I do not envy any laurels before I die, how could I look for those posthumous praises? It is a tough and hard way for a man to travel in this world, but what will it be like after death? Sad, oh so sad!