Beside this dike， I shake off the world's dust，
enjoying walks alone near my brushwood house.
A small stream gurgles down a rocky gorge.
Mountains rise beyond the trees，
kingfisher blue， almost beyond description，
but reminding me of the fisherman's simple life.
From a grassy bank， I listen
as springtime fills my heart.
Finches call and answer in the oaks.
Deer cry out， then return to munching weeds.
I remember men who knew a hundred sorrows，
and the gratitude they felt for gifts.
Joy and sorrow pass， each by each，
failure at one moment， happy success the next.
But not for me. I have chosen freedom
from the world's cares. I chose simplicity.