In the southern village the boy who minds the ox
With his naked feet stands on the ox's back.
Through the hole in his coat the river wind blows;
Through his broken hat the mountain rain pours.
On the long dyke he seemed to be far away;
In the narrow lane suddenly we were face to face.
The boy is home and the ox is back in its stall;
And a dark smoke oozes through the thatched roof.
- Lu You (1125-1209 AD), translated by Arthur Waley
p.s. Lu You is not Lu Yu, the Sage of Tea. Likewise, I did not play eight seasons with the Tampa Bay Bucaneers. Very confusing. In trying to figure it all out, I came across this Al Purdy poem. Neat.