November 18th, 2017

The single door that opens to the hills makes two,
Two temples were once the same.
From the east the streams run west to mingle
And from southern hills rise northern clouds.
Flowers bloom in front
But at rear are seen.
Bells above are heard below
And I think of my masters' meditation place,
Where cassia flowers drift down one by one.

Bai Juyi (772-846)