Poetry in ocean

[desperance]

So I am a neat halfway through rereading the Aubrey/Maturin cycle - The Far Side of the World, vol ten of twenty - and I have encountered, as one is prone to do about these parts, my favourite four lines in the entire saga. It is a poem, allegedly translated from the Malay (I have no idea; I can count up to five in Malay - alas, I have lost six through ten - but I am utterly ignorant of their poetic tradition), and I am inclined to share. I believe I have shared before; it may already be a tradition at this point.

The peepul-tree grows at the edge of the forest,
On the fishermen's strand nets lie in hopeless confusion;
It is true that I am sitting on your knee
But you are not therefore to suppose that you may take any other liberty at all.

I do just love that utterly.