Classic Poem

Not for the Imperial City am I bound.
I'd rather put the monks to the trouble of entertaining me.
I take delight in seeking flavor out of the flavorless;
And passing my days simulating talent
With no pretensions to talent.

Rather remain my usual self than be a high official.
Having seen my fill of this mundane world,
I'd much prefer returning to be a tiller of the fields —
With pines and bamboos for my true friends,
And mountain birds and flowers as kindred spirits.