In the flowering branches
At the thatched hut,
Swept strings of a zither.
Because you’re now in mountains,
The way you see has changed;
When meeting visitors,
You speak your heart.
The moon rises
Over the quiet river road;
Cranes cry from trees
Deep in cloud.
If I could learn
The art of alchemy,
I, too, would settle
In an unknown wood.
– Chang Chi (776-829)
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