Stream of Orchid
Silk-washing Stream Visit to the Temple of Clear Fountain on the West-flowing
In the brook below the hill is drowned short orchid bud;
On the sandy path between pine-trees there’s no mud.
Shower by shower falls the rain while cuckoos sing.
Who says a man cannot be restored to his spring?
In front of the temple the water still flows west.
Why can’t the cock crow at dawn though with a white crest?