Return to Nature V
- Poetry of Tao Yuanming

Melancholy, I come back, staff in hand,

Going alone the rugged bushy way.

In mountain crooks shallow and clear I stand

And wash my feet where a moment I stay.

At home I strain my newly-ripened wine,

Cook a chicken and with neighbors share it.

My room turns dark when there's no more sunshine,

Branches are burned instead of candle lit.

So joyful we're that we find short the night;

Soon in the east we see the first sunlight.