Sport 39: 2011
Going to see the Master of Daitian Mountain, and not finding him in
Going to see the Master of Daitian Mountain, and not finding him in
Dog’s bark amidst waters’ sounds.
Peach blossoms heavy with rain.
Where the woods are deep: sometimes a deer.
Noon by the stream: no temple bell.
Wild bamboo divides the green mists.
Flying springs hang, caught on the blue-green peaks.
Seeing there’s no one who can tell me where he’s gone
I lean disconsolately against a pine or two.
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