Old masters are my friends
Living where I am is my daily occupation
Tying long blades of grass together
Slowly repairing the hut,
Though old masters are long dead,
Huang Po is a corpse of letters,
And my cabin is a wooden wreck.
This, is my perfect life.
I could not dream of better friends
Nor could I wish for a more satisfying existence.
Franck Joseph
Notes & Silence 
Un commentaire