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�� ���������� � ��������� ������ ���� ³������� �� �� �� ��������� ���� ��������. ���, �� ������� � ����, �������� �������. �������� �������� � � ������ �����, � �������� - ��� �������� ���� ������. ����� � ����� ��������� ������ �� ����, �� ���� � ������� ��� ������ ���� ����. ���� ϳ�������� ���� ��������� � � ���, ���� ������, ������� ��� ��� � ����. ��� �� ����� ���� ���������� ������� � �����, ��� � ��� ���� ���-������ ��������� �����. ����� � ����� ������ ��� ���, ��������� �� ����, ҳ���� ��. � ��� ����� �� ������ ������� �����. �� �������, �� ���� ������ ���� ��� ����. ������ ���� ������� ��������� � ���� � ������. ���� �� �������� ������� ������ ����� �������. �� �������� ��������� ������������� ������. � ��� ���� ������, ����� ������� � �����. ҳ���� ���� � ������ ���������� ����. ��� � ����� � �����, � ����� � �����, ����� ��������� ���� ������ � ������. by Tao Yuanming, translated by Arthur Waley RETURNING TO LIVE IN THE COUNTRY Young, I was always free of common feeling. It was in my nature to love the hills and mountains. Mindlessly I was caught in the dust-filled trap. Waking up, thirty years had gone. The caged bird wants the old trees and air. Fish in their pool miss the ancient stream. I plough the earth at the edge of South Moor. Keeping life simple, return to my plot and garden. My place is hardly more than a few fields. My house has eight or nine small rooms. Elm-trees and Willows shade the back. Plum-trees and Peach-trees reach the door. Misted, misted the distant village. Drifting, the soft swirls of smoke. Somewhere a dog barks deep in the winding lanes. A cockerel crows from the top of the mulberry tree. No heat and dust behind my closed doors. My bare rooms are filled with space and silence. Too long a prisoner, captive in a cage, Now I can get back again to Nature