Sylph looks about the terrain, all is dead it seems. Her lord and one other nymph could be seen. Oculus look about searching for her youth, though she was a spit fyres at heart she was yet big enough to defend herself. Appendages were put into action, as they move onyx and ivorie nymph about. Oculus searching for Cheanoa, embouchement is parted to release lyric from chest cavity.
Bright moon, when was your birth?
Winecup in hand, I ask the deep blue sky;
Not knowing what year it is tonight
In those celestial palaces on high. I long to fly back one the wind,
Yet dread those crystal towers, those courts of jade,
Freezing to death among those icy heights!
Instead I rise to dance with my pale shadow;
Better off, after all, in the world of men.
Rounding the red pavilion,
Stooping to look through gauze windows,
She shines on the sleepless.
The moon should know no sadness;
Why, then, is she always full when dear ones are parted?
For men the grief of parting, joy of reunion,
Just as the moon wanes and waxes, is bright or dim:
Always some flaw-and so it has been since of old.
My one wish for you, is long life
And a share in this loveliness far, far away!
By: Su shi
Feedback: 