2022-06-14 - Come Away Home by Tao Yuanming =========================================== Come away home! My fields and garden will be full of weeds, how can I not go back? It was myself who put my mind into bondage, so why go on being sad and lonely? I understand that what is already past cannot be rebuked, but know the future's possibilities. In fact this wrong road has not taken me so far, and what I now realize is correct, while yesterday I was wrong. My boat wobbles about in the light breeze, the wind swirls as it blows my clothing. I ask a traveler about the road ahead, and resent that the early morning light is still dim. Then I see my family home! Filled joy, filled with urgency, my servants welcome me; My offspring at the gate; the three paths are almost overgrown; but the pines and chrysanthemums are still here; leading the youngsters, I enter the house; Where there's a wine-filled goblet. I take up the bottle and cups to pour myself a drink, Gazing at the courtyard trees makes me flushed with pleasure. I lean on the south window to savor my pride, And wonder how such cramped quarters can be so comfortable. In the garden daily I stroll to become content; the gate although in good shape is always closed. I poke around with my old man's cane as I wander and relax, sometimes lifting my head to gaze into the distance. The clouds randomly float up from the mountain tops, and the birds, weary of flying, instinctively return home. Shadows darken as the sun prepares to set; caressing a solitary pine I tarry long. Come away home! Please end outside relationships and stop wandering. Society and I are mutually opposed; if again I made to leave what would I be seeking? I enjoy relatives' intimate conversation, and am happy to have my qin and books to dispel melancholy. Farmers tell me when spring's arrival means there will be things to do in the eastern fields. Perhaps I reserve a covered wagon, or row a solitary boat. I go to secluded places to seek out a ravine, or to a rugged path for traversing a hill. Trees are joyous as they become luxuriant, and springs bubble up as they begin to flow forth. I appreciate how all of creation follows the seasons, and I am moved by my life's going its full cycle. That's enough! Having this human form within the universe: can we really ever return? So why not let the heart allow itself to abandon restraint? What is all this bustling about? Whatever is it we want? For wealth I have no desire; for the realm of the gods I have no expectation. I cherish lovely mornings for solitary walks; perhaps sticking a staff in the ground to weed and hoe. Climbing the east ridge where I can comfortably whistle, or sit beside clear streams where I can compose poetry. Thus I go along with my fate until I return to its completion. I celebrate heaven's decree: how could there be more? tags: poem Tags ==== poem