I built my hut in a zone of human habitation, Yet near me there sounds no noise of horse or coach. Would you know how that is possible? A heart that is distant creates a wilderness round it. I pluck chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge, Then gaze long at the distant summer hills. The mountain air is fresh at the dusk of day: The flying birds two by two return. In these things there lies a deep meaning; Yet when we would express it, words suddenly fail us.