For my home I delight in the hidden and concealed;
The place where I live is cut off from the noise and the dust.
The grasses I trample become my three paths;
The clouds I behold, make up my
Neighbors on four sides all around.
In helping me sing, for music, there are the birds;
I'd ask about the Dharma,
But to talk with there's no one at all.
Today I'm like the stinking cedar;
Several years are just like one spring.

- Han-shan