On these pleasant hills residing,
Far from worldly din and strife,
Leisurely with nature living,
Here I pass a happy life.
Gently wave the bamboo copses,
Fanned by evening breezes light;
While the flowers and moon-beams mingle
In the ghostly hours of night.
Through ravines the waters gurgle,
Stemmed by scattered rock and stone;
Round the bends the footpath wanders--
By the mosses overgrown.
Here with friends and habits simple,
And a cup of generous wine,
Fingering lute and old songs singing--
For no other heaven I pine.
_Listening to the Playing on a Lute in a Boat_