If a land is small and its people are few,

With tenfold enough to have and to do,

And if no one has schooled them to waste supply

In the country for which they live and would die,

Then not a boat, not a cart

Tempts this people to depart,

Not a dagger, not a bow

Has to be drawn or bent for show,

People reckon by knots in a cord,

Relish plain food on the board,

Simple clothing suits them well,

And they remain content to dwell

In homes their customs can afford.

Though so close to their own town another town grow

They can hear its dogs bark and its roosters crow,

Yet glad of life in the village they know,

Where else in the world shall they need to go?

From the Tao Te Ching, Chapter 80

Translated by Witter Bynner, copyright 1944