The Xiangji Studio is an old apartment giving onto the southern verandah. The living space is only ten feet square, just enough for one person. The structure is a hundred years old, so the dust filtered in, the rain poured through. When one wanted to shift the position of the table, one could find no other place to put it. Then too the studio faces north, which means it got no sun: by afternoon it was already dark. I had some tepaits made, which stopped the roof leaking. I had four windows cut in the front, and a wall built to encircle the courtyard, so as to catch the southern sun. Thanks to the light reflected by the wall, the interior was bright for the first time. I also had orchid, cassia, bamboos and trees planted here and there in the courtyard, which enhanced the aspect of the existing verandah. With borrowed books filling my shelves, I would lie back and intone and chant, or sit upright and meditate. Though the pipes of Nature played round about, it was quiet and still in the courtyard. Sometimes small birds came to feed there, and did not fly away when humans approached. On the night of the full moon, when the bright moonlight reached halfway down the walls and the cassias shed a dappled shade which moved when the wind stirred, one knew then what bliss was. — Excerpted from Gui Youguang, The Xiangji Studio (Ming Dynasty), translated by David Pollard.#essay #article #literature #chinese #ancient #translate #english #englishtranslation #david_pollard