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by shrike_15 (shrike_15)
at March 30th, 2007 (04:10 pm)

"Down from the mountain I came at break of day. See how the mist rises at its food....

"I have tidings to bring to the town beyond the river in the south, tidings from the hermit. No, I am not allowed to talk further of this."

I put down a long bundle, about four feet in length. It is wrapped in a simple black woollen cloth with yellow and green straps. Sitting down I stret wood on the sea....

"May I ask—are you a musician?"

"Yes, I am. Do you wish me to play for your guests?"

And so I take the Qin out of its cover and tune it. I remember the great Tan Tsu teaching me this one....

"I apologise but now I have to leave. The way ahead is long and I wish to arrive this evening."

Leaving this place is like the moments in childhood when the butterfly rests on my fingertip for just now and is gone. A little sad. But I can't help it—till I return.