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From between hewn peaks, a far-off moon emerges at the edge of my brushwood gate. Ten thousand trees sharing its clear skies as shadows blur toward the heart of night, its radiance offers emptiness white images and its ch'i invests wind with ice-cold dew. The valley's silent. Autumn streams echo. Deep among cliffwalls, scraps of azure haze linger. Crystal pure, it enters isolate dream, opening shadows, embracing empty peaks, then I wake at my ch'in window confused: pine creek at dawn, not a thought anywhere.
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Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 7:51 PM UTC
East Creek, Savoring the Moon
From between hewn peaks, a far-off moon emerges at the edge of my brushwood gate. Ten thousand trees sharing its clear skies as shadows blur toward the heart of night, its radiance offers emptiness white images and its ch'i invests wind with ice-cold dew. The valley's silent. Autumn streams echo. Deep among cliffwalls, scraps of azure haze linger. Crystal pure, it enters isolate dream, opening shadows, embracing empty peaks, then I wake at my ch'in window confused: pine creek at dawn, not a thought anywhere.
**** Wei; translated by David Hinton My favorite poem
RustingRoses
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Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 7:51 PM UTC
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