Tired of my writing brush, I gazed out the window:
bamboo and pine were perfectly still.
At moonrise, a slight breeze came up,
like on those long-ago nights in the hills.
As though dreaming, I returned to the Hsien-yu Temple
near my home in the southern mountains.
When that palace water clock awakened me,
I thought it was the laughter of mountain streams.
translated by Sam Hamill
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
Fine Arts
Life, love and destiny.
4TheRecord is dedicated primarily to Ausmusic from all eras and most genres, we will explore the dynamics of the creative process, and reveal the great drama, lyricism, musicality, and emotion behind each classic song.
Fii schimbarea pe care vrei sa o vezi in lume!
Moments de vie, fragments de textes et quelques notes...
Unleashing the beauty of creativity
there's nothing like stories
quiet moments in nature
Art and Literature Beyond Borders
A bird's eye view of St. George, Utah
Keep on Reading
Chronicling an ever-changing city through faded and forgotten artifacts
I read, rant and write ;)
Sono una donna libera. Nel mio blog farete un viaggio lungo e profondo nei pensieri della mente del cuore e dell anima.
The Green Lizard Log
Leonard Durso 
Considering all the darkness of the situation one would hope that you have access to the laughter of mountain streams
There’s laughter eveywhere if one has the ears to hear it.
Yes. But how many have their ears blocked?
We can only really start with our own pair of ears and hope others will follow our example.