Wanted: Catharsis




the sage Deep on the mountain’s an unseen cloister;

Wicker shadows lock in the long bamboos.
Suddenly there’s a bell
Ringing now and then,
Empty valley filling with white clouds

Off drawing water, an old monk returns;
Pine-tree dew stains his robe green.
Bell barely murmurs; the cloister gate has closed.
Mountain birds, all by themselves,
Skirmish over roosting spots.

- Ch’en Fou (1240 – 1319)

Comments

  1. Answer me this one, brainiac:

    How can mountain birds skirmish when they're all by themselves?

    And what in the heck is a wicker shadow?

    ReplyDelete
  2. i wish that there was a catharsis. unfortunately, in a life or death fight- there isn't time to stop and smell the roses. one can dream about simpler times but we have to fight on.

    ReplyDelete

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