When the King of Qin transgressed the heavenly law,
The sages left their homes and went ashore.
When hermits Huang and Qi went to Mount Shang,
First settlers in the Springs came in a gang.
The early footprints are covered now with weeds;
The trodden bypaths are buried now by reeds.
In the fields, each person does his very best;
At sunset they go home and take a rest.
Bamboos and mulberries grow in such mild clime
While beans and crops are planted in their time.
They raise silkworms and plough the fields in spring;
When they reap crops, they need not pay the king.
On bushy roads, no men are seen to go,
But dogs are heard to bark and cocks to crow.
They make sacrifices in ancient ways
The children sing their songs with ringing voice;
The grey-hair have pastime of their own choice.
When grass grows lush, they know that spring’s alive;
When trees wither, they see autumn arrive.
Although they do not have an almanac,
The change of seasons helps them mark the track.
Their lives so full of joy and bodies fit,
They have no need to live by their wit.
This wonder, hidden for five hundred years,
Is opened to the world as unspoiled spheres.
Their simple way of life is worlds apart,
And shuts its door to the world from the start.
How can a person from the madding crowd
Expect to know Utopia `neath a shroud!
Oh that I soar to the sky on gentle breeze
And find the men of my ideal like these!