Classic Poem

North and south of my cottage, spring waters everywhere —
All I can see are a flock of terns that come day after day;
The flowery path has not been swept for any guests,
Only today do I finally open my gate for you.

The market is far, so our supper platter lacks variety,
Our family is poor, so the wine flask holds but old home-brew;
If you're willing to sing with the gaffer next door,
I'll call across the fence for him to finish the last cup.