Classic Poem

In the morning they build embankments against floods;
in the evening, dig the roots of wild reeds.
This is to feed their hungry stomachs
and for the generations to come.
I have heard that before the year chia-shen
this place was Peach Blossom Paradise!
Chickens and dogs along mountains and streams,
thick groves among the neighborhoods.
When frost fell, grain crops reached their peak;
oranges perfumed every village.
At sunset, fishing boats returned;
laughter and conversation sounded from each home.
I picture that time of serenity:
house after house, wine brimming in the jars.