This book is a muscle Pulled from Time's living body It hangs the high plateau sky On a corner-pole of history A hoofprint up there Soaked up all the swirling weather All the vicissitudes of human life An azalea has said all there is to say About a thousand years of grief and joy Sad farewells and joyous reunions Bend down and pick up a song of two halves half sad, half happy One pure teardrop Cannot contain range upon range of tall mountains One silver hair cannot stem river after long river flow....