A Poem About Satisfaction
My friend just translated and posted a Chinese poem that reminded me of the kind of feeling I get when I meet some of those big shot ad people.
On visiting the man who lives on the western mountain and not finding him
By Qiu Wei
Translated by Lovelesscynic
I climbed up 30 li to reach the grass cottage.
There were no servants at the front gate.
Inside, there was only a table and some tea things.
He hadn’t taken his carriage,
so he had probably gone fishing on the autumn river.
One coming and one going, we had missed each other.
I hesitated by the gate, for I greatly respected him.
The color of the young grass amid the rain,
the sound of late wind at the window
matched my lonely mood, and stirred my spirits.
Although we had not been able to meet as guest and host,
I had clearly realized the truth.
My pleasure thoroughly satisfied, I descended the mountain.
What need was there to wait for him?