A substitute official repeatedly demoted
I quit and retired to reflect
my hut and garden are overgrown with weeds
it's a misty deserted tranquil place
living in retirement I nurse my ills
I keep life simple and enjoy wild plants
my hairline is steadily receding
and my formal wear looks sad
a layer of moss covers the road
the new bamboos have begun sprouting leaves
in the haze of dusk the far crescent sets
a light breeze awakens distant thoughts
but writing about Mystery would only earn me scorn
and my closed gate greets no callers
if not for a well-wisher like you
who would look in on the lonely