Saturday, April 16, 2016

in a Chinese garden

I built my hut in a zone of human habitation,
Yet near me there sounds no noise of horse or coach.
Would you know how that is possible?

A heart that is distant creates a wilderness round it.

I pluck chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge,
Then gaze long at the distant summer hills.
The mountain air is fresh at the dusk of day:
The flying birds two by two return.

In these things there lies a deep meaning;
Yet when we would express it, words suddenly fail us.

~Tao Yuanming (365-427)

photos: Taiwan
©bruce behnke 2016