Just how many times, Han Shan wonders,
Has he used the clematis on the fence
To shield himself against public derision.
Soon, he tells himself, when he has time,
He must set bamboo at the clothesline
And another stand of the flourishing stuff
Between the house and the road
So he can visit longer with the postman
Without embarrassment.
Landscaping has become his specialty.
Now he gathers his robe about his waist
And squats in the peonies by the gate
To relieve an old man’s propensities.
If a neighbor happens along,
He will nod and smile and pretend to be digging
Among the pretty flowers,
Hearing for the thousandth time,
“What a splendid garden you have!”
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