Naingwae

The Quite life

Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breath his native air
In his own ground.


Whose herds with milks, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire;
Whose trees in summer yidld him shade,
In winter, fire.

Blest,who can unconcern’dly find
Hours, day and years, slide soft away
In health of body, peace of mind
Quite by day.

Sound sleep by night, study and ease
Together mix’d sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please
With meditation.

Thus let me liye, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

A.POPE

ပံုႏွိပ္ရန္