In a quite remote region there is a state

The people of which are ignorant and simple;

Their object is to detract the thought of Self

And make their desires fewer day after day.

They labour but do not lay up their gains;

They give but do not seek for any return;

They don't know what democracy and righteousness

Are required of them in any particular occurrence,

Nor by what ceremonials, customs and rites

Their performances should be signalized.

Acting in an eccentric way as if they were mad,

They yet keep to the grand rules of demeanour.

Their birth is an occasion for joy; their death

Is followed by the rituals of burial. I have, I guess,

To wish to leave this elaborately managed place

And, giving up its sophisticated ways of ruling,

Proceed to that outland named "The Pure State

Of the Five Basic Crops" by my direct course. . .