The rooster crows as if it were hoisting with its thin legsThe next day, buried with all his weight in the darkness of the night.He
The rooster crows as if it were hoisting with its thin legsThe next day, buried with all his weight in the darkness of the night.He
What the three strokes on the singing bowl teach meOn the threshold of sittingThe way they baptize the moment,With which they bless the present,How they