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.
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