Tao Yuanming (365-427) is one of the great poets of China. I have been reading a translation of his poems by Bill Porter (under his pseudonym Red Pine) and came across this unnamed poem. It talks about the hardships of travel in China around the year 400 AD. I, who yearn to have the money to allow me to travel and find myself stuck in Southern California, am in a slightly different situation.

People sigh about the hardships of travel
I’m just learning about them now
about the size of mountains and rivers
and the unexpected dangers of both
about crashing waves that echo across the sky
and relentless winds that never cease
the more I travel the more I long for home
why am I stuck where I am
I’ve been thinking about how much I love my garden
and why haven’t I said goodbye to the world
how long will my good years last
and why did I ever question my heart