Evening View as the Snow Clears
I lean on my staff, gaze at the sunlit snow,
Clouds and gullies in countless layers
The woodcutter returns to his plain hut,
As the winter sun falls behind sheer peaks
A wildfire burns over the grass of the hills;
Broken patches of mist rise from among the rocks and pines.
Then, turning back on the mountain temple road,
I hear the bells ring in the evening sky.
Clouds and gullies in countless layers
The woodcutter returns to his plain hut,
As the winter sun falls behind sheer peaks
A wildfire burns over the grass of the hills;
Broken patches of mist rise from among the rocks and pines.
Then, turning back on the mountain temple road,
I hear the bells ring in the evening sky.
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