The entire journey was on foot to this place,Of moss, more moss, and my footstep’s trace.White clouds about the banks in a quiet state,The growing grass has covered the fence’s gate. Passing rain, the pine’s green color in course,I follow the mountain, to the water’s source.These …
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Hundreds of acres—this garden is covered with moss;Peach flowers now cauliflowers, filling to the end.Where did the monk who tended this soil go?Once I was young and now I’m back here again. Original in Chinese
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