80

"Small country, few people - Hundreds of devices, But none are used. People ponder on death And don't travel far. They have carriages and boats, But no one goes on board; Weapons and armour, But no one brandishes them. They use knotted cords for counting. Sweet is their food, Beautiful their clothes, Peaceful their homes, Delightful their customs. Neighboring countries are so close You can hear their chickens and dogs. But people grow old and die Without needing to come and go."