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The use of uselessness: to keep my Way.
In this secluded life I move toward truly feeling.
Mulberry and hemp, deep in rain and dew,
A mountain finch, I've built here half a life, at least.
The village drums may urge from time to time,
The fishing boats, each one floating, light.
With bramble staff I take my white head walking.
Heart makes tracks here; here's purity,
In thought, in action.

-Tu Fu

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