I just happened to quit my post
and end up in the countryside
where the rising sun lights thatched huts
and gardens and groves support simple folk
though I'd agree I'm without means
my wine cup is rarely empty
I delight in ripening grain
and sigh at the work of creation
in step with villagers dawn to dusk
there's nothing they do I don't
I cut bamboo along the stream to the south
and return at night to the Feng's east shore
I retired because of incompetence
it wasn't to follow a higher path
I read your essay of jade and gold
its beautiful hues lit up my face
day after day I've wanted to reply
that was in spring and now it's winter