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by Ryokan

My hut lies in the middle of a dense forest;

Every year the green ivy grows longer.

No news of the affairs of men,

Only the occasional song of a woodcutter.

The sun shines and I mend my robe.

When the moon comes out, I read Buddhist poems.

I have nothing to report my friends.

If you want to find the meaning, stop chasing after so many things.