Imagine a small country,
with few people and little ambition.
Though capable, no one is pressured to achieve.
Though life is precious, no one fears death.

They have boats—but don’t sail.
Weapons—but don’t use them.
They write not with pens, but with knotted cords.

They find sweetness in simple meals,
beauty in plain clothes,
peace in modest homes,
joy in familiar ways.

A neighbouring village may be close—
roosters and dogs heard across the fields—
yet people grow old and die
without needing to go there.