A court poet was walking down a road through the lower regions of Junan Province, sent on an errand by his master the Emperor.

The Emperor had made a bet with the vizier that the poet could leave for one month and return with a poem that would make everyone at the court sad. The joke was on the vizier, who paid too much attention to the Emperor's accounts he had no idea that the poet's poetry was so boring that he was despised throughout the Imperial City. No matter what poem he returned with, his return alone would be enough to sadden the court.

The first person to pass the poet on the road was a proud warrior on his way to the Imperial City to seek an appointment in the Guard. The poet tried to stop him, but the warrior refused him a single glance. Warriors are too serious, though the poet, but I suppose war is serious business.

The second person to pass the poet on the road was a farmer, struggling with a great load on his back. The poet offered to help the farmer carry his load, but the farmer thought he was a thief and threatened him with violence.Farmers are too suspicious, thought the poet, but they have much to protect and little to protect it with.

The third person to pass the poet on the road was another poet, who walked along mumbling a composition. The poet recognized him. He asked if he would walk with him and trade poems. The other poet was too engrossed in his composition to even acknowledge him. We poets are too proud, though the poet, but we carry such a great burden for the world.

The fourth person to pass the poet on the road was a stooping hermit. The hermit knelt by a stream to clean his head and the poet asked him if he had seen places of great beauty on the road. (The poet liked beautiful places, and believed that the Kami of such places liked poets too) But the hermit only grunted and said that everything was beautiful to fools. Hermits are too cryptic, though t the poet, though I suppose they are too grandly wise to speak in plain words.

The fifth person to pass the poet on the road was a lord riding in a palanquin. The poet walked alongside the lord and recited a few poems for him. The lord passed out a few coins to the poet and said that the poems were the best he'd ever heard. Lords are too flattering, thought the poet, but I suppose they are too fat to be very critical.

When the poet returned to court his poem instructed everyone to be happy in their fate, for no one else's is any happier than theirs. This pleased almost everyone at court, and the Emperor lost his bet. The Emperor banished the poet from court forever, and sent assassins to kill him as soon he left the Imperial city.