The Contentment Of A Poor Recluse

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My only door some pieces of crossed wood,
  Within it I can rest enjoy.
I drink the water wimpling from the spring;
  Nor hunger can my peace destroy.

Purged from ambition's aims I say, "For fish.
  We need not bream caught in the Ho;
Nor, to possess the sweets of love, require
  To Ts'e, to find a Keang, to go.

"The man contented with his lot, a meal
  Of fish without Ho carp can make;
Nor needs, to rest in his domestic joy,
  A Tsze of Sung as wife to take."

© Confucius