March 28th, 2021


Just happened to plant you
to get some shade;
You flourished fully,
surpassing the other trees.
When moonlight is cold,
there a pair of doves sleep;
When winds die down,
there one cicada sings.
Reflected below,
your colors enhance the moss's green;
Living here in poverty,
few visitors ever come;
I rely on you to console my heart.

Weng Chuan (d. 1214)