By: OH Kyu-Won
An unknown bird came and sang.
It sang on the branches of a crape myrtle.
The crape myrtle, though dead, glittered.
The bird, having sung, saw
a peony buried in the shade shaking.
Turning its head,
it saw a guelder-rose screening about the half of the west mountain.
It saw the west mountain left unscreened about half.
And the bird sang again,
while the sun was going down.
from: The PAI CHAI Chronicle
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