September 01st, 2017

I gather chrysanthemums
At the eastern hedgerow
And silently gaze
At the southern mountains.
The mountain air
Is beautiful in the sunset,
And the birds
Flocking together return home.
Among all these things
There is a real meaning,
Yet when I try to express it,
I become lost in “no-words.”

T’ao Ch’ien (365-427)