At midsummer full of calm shadows. The south wind follows summer’s train: With its eddying-puffs it blows open my coat. I am free from ties and can live a life of retirement. When I rise from sleep, I play with books and harp. The lettuce in the garden still grows moist: Of last year’s grain there is always plenty left. Self-support should maintain strict limits: More than enough is not what I want. I grind millet and make good wine: When the wine is heated, I pour it out for myself. My little children are playing at my side, Learning to talk, they babble unformed sounds. These things have made me happy again And I forget my lost cap of office. Distant, distant I gaze at the white clouds: With a deep yearning I think of the Sages of Antiquity.