All things flourish in the warmth of spring. The grass and trees rise with the great wind. How gracefully the …
All things flourish in the warmth of spring. The grass and trees rise with the great wind. How gracefully the leaves scatter; how solitary I stand alone. The four seasons gallop past, leaving me behind. What is it I truly seek now? Life between heaven and earth is fleeting as a bird perching on a withered branch. What is it I truly seek now?