A Mortal Life, Born of One Thought · Above and Below, All Connected · 98 / 102
Geng Lou Zi · Holding the Game
In the evening wood, a desolate moon rippling, every sound of man and horse comes slow. The wind is too still, catching on threads of dust, breathing in and out, luring the dream into its weaving.
The fireflies come back; I turn at the door to look—who else trims the lamp and tries the sword? The stream surges, the pebbles strike; let the lamplight go out as it will.
Glosses—
Rippling [dan]: the look of water rising and falling in waves;
Breathe in [xi]: the same as 'inhale', to draw air into the body.
*This is an original work. If you reprint it, please credit the original author Guang Zhi Shiyi; any infringement, once discovered, will be pursued for legal liability. In addition, the accompanying image comes from the internet and belongs to the original illustrator RedMatcha.