I taught myself to live simply and wisely,to look at the sky and pray to God,and to wander long before eveningto tire my superfluous worries.
When the burdocks rustle in the ravineand the yellow-red rowanberry cluster droopsI compose happy versesabout life's decay, decay and beauty.
I come back.
The fluffy catlicks my palm, purrs so sweetlyand the fire flares brighton the saw-mill turret by the lake.
Only the cry of a stork landing on the roofoccasionally breaks the silence.
If you knock on my doorI may not even hear.
