The fisherman said: 'These are the trades that keep the two of us — the business of feeding ourselves. But you have nothing to match the delights of my idle hours. I have a poem to prove it. The poem runs:'

贍身 is 'to sustain oneself'; 勾當 (gòudàng) here is the neutral 'occupation, line of work,' its later pejorative sense not yet attached. 都 in 這都是 is dōu, 'all,' and 為 in 為證 is wéi. The contest now shifts from 詞 to regulated 律詩.

At my leisure I watch the white cranes fly across the blue sky; mooring my boat by the stream, I close my grey-wood door.

The 首聯 opens on the emblem of the recluse — the white crane, bird of the immortals and of untrammeled freedom; 蒼扉 is a plain door of weathered wood, pairing open sky against enclosed retreat.

Leaning on the awning, I teach my son to twist the fishing-line; resting the oar, together with my wife I spread the nets to dry.

教 is jiāo, 'to teach,' and 子 the full-sense zǐ, 'son'; 搓 is to roll between the palms, 罷棹 'to lay down the oar.' The 頷聯's parallel of 教子 and 同妻 makes a domestic couplet of shared, unhurried work.

With my nature settled, all is as calm as stilled waves; my body at peace, I feel of course how faint the wind.

The 頸聯 turns inward: 性定 ('the nature composed') and 身安 ('the body at peace') are terms of self-cultivation, the outer calm of still waves and faint wind mirroring the inner. 自是 is 'naturally, of course.'

Green straw cape and blue bamboo hat, worn as the season asks — far better than wearing the purple-ribboned robes of the court.

著 is zhuó, 'to wear,' and 朝 in 朝中 ('at court') is cháo; the fisherman's 綠簑青笠 (cape and broad hat) are set against the 紫綬衣 (robe with purple seal-ribbon of high office). The 尾聯 states the poem's whole point; the 」 closes the recitation.