Before the temple, an ancient cypress—its stump half gone. Dust gathers on the golden censer atop the silent h…
Before the temple, an ancient cypress—its stump half gone. Dust gathers on the golden censer atop the silent hall.
A lonely shrine stands in the middle of the waters. No one knows who built it. Strange sounds echo through the air. Some say it's a dragon's cry, like the sigh of a whale or the bellow of an ox.
Through the eternal rivers, who knows their depths? Through the scrolls of time, who remembers this name?