A gentle wind fans the calm night; A bright moon shines on the high tower. A voice whispers, but no one answers when I call: A shadow stirs, but no one comes when I beckon. The kitchen man brings in a dish of lentils: Wine is there, but I do not fill my cup. Contentment with poverty is fortune's best gift: Riches and Honour are the handmaids of Disaster. Though gold and gems by the world are sought and prized, To me they seem no more than weeds or chaff.