Bishu cast a quick look over the pond
And the water gathered all its ripples,
Collapsing like a poet’s metaphors
Into some calm of thought. A sound echoed
Throughout the valley, and disappeared
In its green. When it was sinfully dark
An ewe fell a prey to the red wolf’s guile
And a magic moon laughed ’neath the dumbness
That sleeps like eternity’s unconcern.
Yet Bishu saw rising at the far shore
An image that grew sharper...
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