Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Leaving the weeds, entering the weeds;
Who knows how to seek them out?
White clouds, layer upon layer;
Red sun, clear and bright.
Looking to the left, there are no flaws;
Looking to the right, already old.
Have you not seen the man of Cold Mountain?
He traveled so swiftly;
Ten years he couldn't return,
And forgot the road by which he came.