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Tuesday, December 24, 2013

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Asian poetry Climbing West Of Lotus height Peak Amongst the enormousness of Hua Shan I climb to the thrill Peak, and fancy I see fairies and immortals carrying lotus in their spiritual white hands, robes satiny they aviate filling the sky with twine as they rise to the palace of heaven, inviting me to go to the cloud wooden leg and see Wei Shu-ching, guardian angel of Hua Shan; so dreamfully I go with them riding to the sky on the cover song of infatuated geese which call as they fly, but when we look to a lower place at Loyang, not so clear because of the mist, everywhere could be seen looting armies, which took Loyang, creating funny farm and madness with blood flowing everywhere; like animals of prey rebel the States men do into officials with caps and robes to match The Lotus     In the deep sequestered measure of flow the lotus grows, Blooming fresh and fair in the cockcrow sun. Its glowing petals hide the clear autumn water, And i ts slurred leaves circularise like blue smoke. Alas! in nugatory its cup of tea excels the world. Who knows? Who leave speak of its rare redolence? Lo, the frost will come, chilling the air, And its crimson must wither, its fragrance fade. Ill it has chosen the place to plant its root. Would it could move to the borderline of a bill pond!
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