Summer in the Mountains

Gently I stir a white feather fan,

With open shirt sitting in a green wood.

I take off my cap and hang it on a jutting stone;

A wind from the pine-tree trickles on my bare head.

Another translation:

Too lazy to shift my white feather fan

I lie naked in the green woods.

Hanging my hat on a rock,

I bare my head to the breeze in the pines.