These past few days I have beenexceedingly restless. This evening, as I sat in my courtyard enjoying the coolnight air, I suddenly thought of the lotus pond along which I was used totaking daily walks, and I imagined that it must look quite different under thelight of this full moon. Slowly the moon climbed in the sky, and beyond thewall the laughter of children playing on the road could no longer be heard. Mywife was inside patting Run’er* as she hummed a faint lullaby. I gently threw awrap over my shoulders and walked out, closing the gate behind me.
Bordering the pond is a meanderinglittle cinder path. It is a secluded path; during the day few people use it,and at night it is even lonelier. There are great numbers of trees growing onall sides of the lotus pond, lush and fertile. On one side of the path thereare some willow trees and several varieties of trees whose names I do not know.On moonless nights this path is dark and forbidding, giving one an eeriefeeling. But this evening it was quite nice, even though the rays of the moonwere pale. Finding myself alone on the path, I folded my hands behind me andstrolled along. The stretch of land and sky that spread out before me seemed tobelong to me, and I could transcend my own experience and enter another world.I love noise, but I also love quiet; I love crowds, but I also love seclusion.On a night like tonight, all alone under this vast expanse of moonlight, I canthink whatever I wish, or think of nothing if I wish. I feel myself to be atruly free man. The things I must do and the words I must say during thedaytime I need not concern myself with now; this is an exquisite secluded spot,a place where I can enjoy the limitless fragrance of the lotuses and the lightof the moon.
On the surface of the winding andtwisting lotus pond floated an immense field of leaves. The leaves lay high inthe water, rising up like the skirts of a dancing girl. Amid the layers ofleaves white blossoms adorned the vista, some beguilingly open and othersbashfully holding their petals in. Just like a string of bright pearls or starsin a blue sky, or like lovely maidens just emerging from their bath. A gentlebreeze floated by, bringing with it waves of a crisp fragrance like strains ofa vague melody sent over from distant towering buildings. When that happened,the leaves and blossoms trembled briefly, as though a bolt of lightning hadstreaked across the lotus pond. The leaves themselves were densely crowdedtogether, pushing back and forth, and they seemed to be a cresting wave ofsolid green. Beneath the leaves restrained currents of water flowed, imprisonedbeneath them, the color forever hidden, while the stirrings of the leaves wereeven more pronounced.
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