Drinking Wine
In people's haunt i build my cot;
Of wheel's and hoof's noise i hear not.
How can it leave on me no trace?
Secluded heart makes secluded place.
i pick fenceside asters at will;
Carefree i see the southern hill.
The mountain air's fresh day and night;
Together birds go home in flight.
What revelation at this view?
Words fail if i try to tell you.