The rustling nightfall strews my robe with roses,
And the scented petals bring forgetfulness
Of shadow after shadow striding past.
I arise with the stars and exultantly follow
The sweep of the moon along the hushing stream,
Where no birds wake; only the far-drawn sigh
Of voices whispering farewell.
Li Po 706-765 AD China
FROM: Over the hills and far away. . .
The way to do is be. Lao Tzu
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