from ageing to sageing

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Two poems for the days just before Winter Solstice

by Han Shan – the Sage from Cold Mountain

XX.
Sitting alone I am sometimes overcome 
By vague feelings of sadness and unrest. 
Round the waist of the hill the clouds stretch and stretch; 
At the mouth of the valley the winds sough and sigh. 
A monkey comes; the trees bend and sway; 
A bird goes into the wood with a shrill cry. 
Time hastens the grey that wilts on my brow; 
The year is over, and age is comfortless. Continue reading