Along the River, Seeing the Home of Absconded Farmers

The times are good, there's no cruel government:
when did they cast off their home?
The old man next door
has taken in their hungry dog;
passers-by pluck their lovely flowers.
The woods, deserted, no smoke rises;
the gate, shut, the sun about to set.
Where would they be, out there in the world?
May they soon return and plant new crops.
Author of original: 
Kao Ch'i
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