January 17th, 2015

Of late, 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 moonbeams play my lute.
What, you ask, is Final Truth?
The fisherman's song strikes deep into the bank.

Wang Wei (710-761)