SPRING FRAGRANCES, AND LEVEL SUN-SHAFTS, COME SIFTING THROUGH MY SHUTTERS. NOW COMES THE SUPPER-HOUR WHEN BOATMEN BOIL THEIR RICE ON THE RIVER. IN THE GARDEN SPARROWS ARE TWITTERING ... ON THE ROAD A CHARIOT-WHEEL IS GRATING.

NOW FOR THE WINE-FLASK. LET MY TROUBLES FLY AWAY ... JOINING THE INSECTS A-BUZZ IN THE LATE-SUN GARDEN. [Tu Fu]