March 18th, 2017

Lately, I love but quietness:
Things of this world
Are no more my concern.
Looking back,
I've known no better plan
Than this:
Returning to the grove.
Pine breezes,
Loosen my robe.
Mountain moon beams,
Play my lute.
What, you ask, is Final Truth?
The fisherman's song,
Strikes deep into the bank.

Wang Wei