Wild monk, come to make a parting with me. We sit a while on the sand beside the welling source. You'll go a long way on that empty alms bowl, deep among mountains, treading fallen flowers. Masterless Ch'an, our own understanding? When you've got it, there's no place for it but a poem. This parting's nothing fated: orphan clouds just never settle down. - Wu Pen, 9th century CE.
The experience I had here really cannot be captured in a picture-poem. With time to kill, we arrived two hours before sunset. Next to us a drum circle, with 20+ people, most playing and some dancing. The atmosphere was simple but rich. We sat on sun-lit rocks. The drummers improvised continuously during the three hours I was there, long complex rhythms. Poetry on all fronts. It's something I will remember for a long time.