Listening to a Monk Play the Reed Pipes

Dawn cicadas choke back sobs,
Evening orioles grieve.

Lively language,
quick,
precise,
from ten fingers' tips.

He's done with reading holy texts;
He wants to play a bit.

His tune floats after
temple chimes
to gild clear autumn's air.
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Author of original: 
Hs├╝eh T'ao
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