|
Barefooted and naked of breast,
My clothes are ragged and dust-laden,
I use no magic to extend my life;
Now, before me, the dead trees become alive.
Commentary:
Inside my gate, a thousand sages do not know me. The beauty
of my garden is invisible. Why should one search for the
footprints of the patriarchs?
I go to the market place with my wine bottle and return home with
my staff. I visit the wineshop and the market, and everyone
I look upon becomes enlightened.
|
