Returning to Live in the South 3
(translated by William P. Coleman)
I sow my beans below the southern hills,
but grass flourishes, while bean seedlings are scarce.
Mornings I rise to clear tangled waste space,
then, under the moon, carry my hoe coming home.
The path is narrow, through tall grass under trees;
its evening dew dampens my clothes.
But wet clothes don’t worry me —
not enough to separate me from my dream.
(translated by William P. Coleman)
I sow my beans below the southern hills,
but grass flourishes, while bean seedlings are scarce.
Mornings I rise to clear tangled waste space,
then, under the moon, carry my hoe coming home.
The path is narrow, through tall grass under trees;
its evening dew dampens my clothes.
But wet clothes don’t worry me —
not enough to separate me from my dream.
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