Tangled vines, like frayed harp-strings, enact a wayward joy. Worldlings have turned away, hidden indoors to nurse their fire. But the trunk bends into a question mark between frost and rust, challenging all the assumptions of the season. –Jujube
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The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. — Robert Frost
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Where the light fractures, no shadow, past or present, can hide you. Time, pinned in space: does it lift what you carry, or anchor it forever? Amid the silent roar, going, yet never gone, you stand, trying to finish the sentence. — Jujube
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脚著谢公屐， 身登青云梯。 半壁见海日， 空中闻天鸡。 … 列缺霹雳， 丘峦崩摧。 洞天石扉， 訇然中开。 Wearing the climbing shoes of Lord Xie, I ascend the ladder of blue clouds. Halfway up, I see the sun rising from the sea, In mid-air, I hear the rooster of heaven crow. … Lightning flashes…
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