duminică, 3 octombrie 2010

Drinking Wine

I made my home amidst this human bustle,

Yet I hear no clamour from the carts and horses.

My friend, you ask me how this can be so?

A distant heart will tend towards like places.

From the eastern hedge, I pluck chrysanthemum flowers,

And idly look towards the southern hills.

The mountain air is beautiful day and night,

The birds fly back to roost with one another.

I know that this must have some deeper meaning,

I try to explain, but cannot find the words.

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