One Thought, a Mortal Life · Stubborn and Foolish by Nature · 18 / 102
· Winter Solstice
The pine stands tall, fair as jade; time steals the brush of the gods. Waking, clouds stream through the mountain gate, hurrying the dawn to break over the sheer cliff.
The last snow lies in the cool air; the land is groomed to a quiet grace. Still I remember the young eagle going far away, and always I cherish this heaven and earth, as of old, as now.
Glosses—
Green light: time, the passing years;
The cool air (sà lì): having the look of coolness.
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