January 29th, 2018

I built my hut beside a path
but I hear neither cart nor horse
you ask how can this be
when the mind travels so does the place
picking chrysanthemums by the eastern fence
I lose myself in the southern hills
the mountain air the sunset light
birds flying home together
in this there is a truth
I'd explain if I could remember the words.

T'ao Yuan-ming (365-427)