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       # 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
       
 (DIR) poem