Overnight At Mountain Temple - Poem by Jia Dao
Massed mountains tower in the cold light,
A simple study facing this sight.
Shooting stars penetrate sparse trees,
The moon saunters toward recoiling mist.
To this summit few visitors come,
No cranes flock to the lofty pines.
Only one eighty year old monk,
Who never hears of worldly affairs.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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