Whose salas these are I think I know
They are the humble design of the All Knowing Being
He will see me stopping for a rest and continue the lonely way
Along the green rivers of young flowing rice which are riding the wind
If my friends could see, will think it odd?
They will say, “It’s time for resting, not thinking! Are they the same?
No one will see me stopping here.
The most beautiful afternoon, this summer
As I sit, everything around me is calm, cool, and collected.
There are the sounds of black birds singing
And wind breathes among the rice fields
Though the breathes are long, beauty spreads over the golden ponds
The sun begins to say, goodbye to the day.
The sala is lovely, lonely, lifeless, quiet…. Unspeakable!
But I have much to read, recite, and write
Promises to keep
Kilometers to go before I sleep
Kilometers to go before I sleep.
Whose salas these are I think I know
They are the humble design of the All Knowing Being
He will see me stopping for a rest and continue the lonely way
Along the green rivers of young flowing rice which are riding the wind
If my friends could see, will think it odd?
They will say, “It’s time for resting, not thinking! Are they the same?
No one will see me stopping here.
The most beautiful afternoon, this summer
As I sit, everything around me is calm, cool, and collected.
There are the sounds of black birds singing
And wind breathes among the rice fields
Though the breathes are long, beauty spreads over the golden ponds
The sun begins to say, goodbye to the day.
The sala is lovely, lonely, lifeless, quiet…. Unspeakable!
But I have much to read, recite, and write
Promises to keep
Kilometers to go before I sleep
Kilometers to go before I sleep.
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