Where the Ancient One sang his last silvery song.
Til now, no crane has returned again
While year upon year the clouds drift on.
The sun is setting above the trees
As clear Yang-tse waters lap the shore
Of the golden-green island, a haven of peace.
But the mists of sadness will lift no more.
("translated" -by me - from a Chinese poem by Ts'ui Hao)
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