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I built my house in inhabited surroundings,

But there is no noise of carriages and horses.

Do you know how this may be?

When the heart is remote, solitude comes.

I pluck chrysanthemums by the eastern fence

and see the distant southern mountains.

The mountain air is fresh at dusk.

Flying birds return in flocks.

In these things there lies a great truth,

But when I try to express it, I cannot find the words.

Tao Yuan-ming  


“The orchestra performed with a great deal of improvisations and playful banter, reminiscent of cubist paintings by Picasso.” (CGTN.com)