In the month of June the grass grows high And round my cottage thick-leaved branches sway. There is not a bird but delights in the place where it rests: And I too--love my thatched cottage. I have done my ploughing: I have sown my seed. Again I have time to sit and read my books. In the narrow lane there are no deep ruts: Often my friends’ carriages turn back. In high spirits I pour out my spring wine And pluck the lettuce growing in my garden. A gentle rain comes stealing up from the east And a sweet wind bears it company. My thoughts float idly over the story of King Chou My eyes wander over the pictures of Hills and Seas. At a single glance I survey the whole Universe. He will never be happy, whom such pleasures fail to please!