I like these tall bamboos flanking the hut And those flowers on the
old fence glowing in the sunset. That puddle in the track might be
deep enough to drown a horse, Those thick wisteria wines wind very
much like snakes. What good can result from mere skill in poetry and
prose? Retirement into the hills and woods is not beyond reach. I am
thinking of offering my whoel library for sale! Maybe I can buy a
hut in this neighborhood.