Yi Che-hyun.
Here in the inn, a glass of wine to warm me,
Safe with the cat upon the heated floor,
Warmth glows from bone to bone. My mind grows mellow.
I think of Cho-sang’s picture of the snow.
On one small scroll he heaps such white enchantment
As I have seen today.
There willow branches
Are weighted down. The inn has closed its door.
One guest is starting off on his small cart,
A proud official shivering in the snow!
Doubtless he envies many a lesser man
Who draws a warm quilt high round freezing ears
And, in the comfort of a heated floor,
Drifts through the day with common country dreams.
I, having seen such snow as Cho-sang painted,
Look forward to exchanging verses with him.