the hermitage of the bamboos

In solitude
sitting in the hidden forest
of the bamboos,
To the sound of the lute
I whistle suspended notes.
In the secrecy of the wood
I see no one:
The bright moon reaches me
with its light.

I come and go
in the hut
isolated among the bamboos,
Every day
more familiar with the Tao.
I go and come back:
there are none here
but the birds of the mountain.
Where solitude is deepest,
the people of the world

Wang Wei
P’ei Ti

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