Ancient Prairie

The prairie overflows with grasses’ rolling billows, As the year comes and goes, it withers and grows. The wild fire can never burn it out of view. When the vernal breeze arises, it appears anew. Its balmy odors drift across the path timeworn, Its luster of green extends to the town forlorn. Again as I see my friend along the road depart, I feel the grass is deep in sorrow, as my heart. Bai Juyi (772-846)