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.
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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