five of seven…wired

On a quiet evening in my thatch-roofed hut,

alone I play a lute with no strings.

It’s melody enters wind and cloud,

mingles deeply with a flowing stream,

fills out the dark valley,

blows through the vast forest, then disappears.

Other than those who hear emptiness,

who will capture this rare sound?




Sky Above, Great Wind

K Tanahashi


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