$CHIP $CFX $MAGIC
Fine grass lines the bank, stirred by a gentle breeze; a tall mast rises from a lone boat at night.
Stars hang low over the vast open plain; the moon surges as the great river flows.
How could my name be made known through my writing? My office I must leave, old and ill.
Adrift, what am I like? A lone sand gull between heaven and earth.
Fine grass lines the bank, stirred by a gentle breeze; a tall mast rises from a lone boat at night.
Stars hang low over the vast open plain; the moon surges as the great river flows.
How could my name be made known through my writing? My office I must leave, old and ill.
Adrift, what am I like? A lone sand gull between heaven and earth.
