Chimes, flutes, and zithers join in turn, and their woven notes begin to burn. The opening stirs no sleeve, no…
Chimes, flutes, and zithers join in turn, and their woven notes begin to burn. The opening stirs no sleeve, no cloud, quiet hush, profound and proud.
Then comes the beat, a sharp refrain, like split green bamboo or ice in rain. She whirls like snow in moonlit air, then sends out grace beyond compare. So swift, so bright, it startles even a dragon's flight.