September 10^th, 2019

White snow still lies on the mountain's shadowy side,
Red petals flare on the sunny side of the woods.
A stony spring washes over precious jade,
Delicate fishes are swimming in its depths.
No need of strings, or bamboo instruments,
When mountains and water give forth their pure notes.
Why bother now to whistle or to sing,
When bushy trees are humming mournfully?