Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
When I speak My lips feel cold - The autumn wind.
Learn about a pine tree from a pine tree, and about a bamboo plant from a bamboo plant.
Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests they are about to die
Awakened at midnight by the sound of the water jar cracking from the ice
The moon and sun are travelers through eternity. Even the years wander on. Whether drifting through life on a boat or climbing toward old age leading a horse, each day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.