The poem
High beyond the thick wall a tower shines with sunset Where peach and plum are blooming and the willowcotton flies. You have heard in your office the court-bell of twilight; Birds find perches, officials head for home. Your morning-jade will tinkle as you thread the golden palace; You will bring the word of Heaven from the closing gates at night. And I should serve there with you; but being full of years, I have taken off official robes and am resting from my troubles.