South of my house and north – all spring there is water.
Day after day I watch flocks of gulls return.
Fallen petals on my path are never swept for guests,
And only now is the thatched gate opened – for you.
Food so far from market must be simple;
The wine in this poor house is home brewed.
If you are willing, we’ll drink with my old neighbor.
Let me call across the fence before we drain the last cup.
– Du Fu