Day by day
the autumn fields grow bleaker
and the cold river
ripples the blue sky
I have moored my boat
in a barbarous country
and made my home
in a western village
when the dates are ripe
I let my neighbors pick them
when the sunflowers are choked with weeds
I hoe them out myself
an old man
doesn't need much food
what's left on my plate I scatter in the brook
to feed the fish.