Far away, the waterfall is a long hanging river flying three thousand feet straight down like the milky river of stars pouring from heaven. Someday I must climb to the very top and look down on all of the little mountains at once. Country paths and clouds are all black, fires on the riverboats the only light. While Night Traveling Slender wind shifting the shore's fine grass. Lonely at night below my boat's tall mast.
Stars hang low as the vast plain broadens, the swaying moon makes the great river race.
I'm old and sick, my career over. Drifting, just drifting. A lone gull floating between earth and sky. Willow Floss Thick with mists, this sweet new day in spring. A snow of catkins lifts from greening withes.