Classic Poem

I dismount and ask, “Anybody home?”
A housewife emerges from the gate.
She seats me under the eaves
And fixes a meal for the guest.
“Where is your husband?” I ask.
“Up the hill at dawn with a plow.”
It must be hard to furrow the hill;
He isn't back even after sunset.
Not a single soul around,
Only chickens and dogs on tiered slopes.
“In the woods there are tigers,
I can't fill my basket with greens.”
“What makes you live alone
Among rugged paths in the valley?”
“I know life is easier on the plain,
But I am afraid of the king's men.”