I couldn’t want another life. This is my
true calling, working fields and mulberries
with my own two hands. I’ve never failed it,
and still, against hunger and cold, there’s
only hull and chaff I’m not asking for more
than a full stomach. All I want is enough
common rice, heavy clothes for winter and
open-weaves for the summer heat-nothing
more. But I haven’t even managed that. O,
it can leave you stricken so with grief
And character is fate. If you’re simple-
minded in life, its ways elude you. That’s
how it is. Nothing can change it. But then,
I’ll delight in even a single cup of wine.
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