Several houses are nestled by the mountains and water, both walking and sitting are peaceful.
A plowing ox tilts the field halfway, harvesting relies on the heavens, and abandonment also relies on the heavens.
After the rain and cool weather, I drive a small boat, with fish on one side and wine on the other.
On the road, I encounter poets and ask about their poems, some are good, some are bad.
A plain robe keeps me warm, better than silk and cotton, it can be worn when new or old.
Simple tea and plain rice satisfy three meals, they are fragrant and sweet in the morning and evening.
Returning home at night, I talk with my wife by the light, discussing the present and the past.
I sleep until the sun is three poles high, not a deity, but better than a deity!