July 20th, 2015

I sit on a boulder
At the edge of the clouds:
Far into the distance
The rain falls, mindless.
The waves stilled,
White seagulls alight;
The mountains cold,
Yellow leaves deepen.
Where does the hermit live?
The noon bell
Brings a clear sound.
As the sun sets,
I find I cannot leave;
The clustered peaks are casting
Shadows of the night.

Wen-siang (1210-1280)