I climbed the barren mountain,
And my gaze swept far and wide
For the red-lit eaves of my father's home,
And I fancied that he sighed:
My son has gone for a soldier,
For a soldier night and day;
But my son is wise, and may yet return,
When the drums have died away.
[...]
Confucius, "The soldier".
2 comments:
I like this blog.
I like yours, and the resources you have to write it; let's switch! :-)
...pleeease?
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