You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘Ching An’ tag.

Cold cliff
weathered tree,
this knobby pated monk. . .
things there’s nothing better than a poem.
Laughs at himself for striving so
to write in the dust of the world,
and scolds old Ts’ang Ko
for inventing writing,
and leading so many astray.
Ching An, 1851-1912