After the shower at Bashang, 
I see an evening line of wildgeese, 
The limp-hanging leaves of a foreign tree, 
A lantern’s cold gleam, lonely in the night, 
An empty garden, white with dew, 
The ruined wall of a neighbouring monastery. 
…I have taken my ease here long enough. 
What am I waiting for, I wonder.

Ma Dai

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