Like most people who stay in the northern countries as winter draws slowly to an end, Algy was feeling listless and very tired. So he flew over to a pretty burn which tumbled down the hillside not far from the lochan, and found himself a soft perch. As he leaned back on the mossy grass beside the water, he remembered a beautiful poem written long, long ago in China:

          To reach the Yellow-Flowered River
          Go by the Green-Water Stream.
          A thousand twists and turns of mountain
          But the way there can’t be many miles.
          The sound of water falling over rocks
          And deep colour among pines.
          Gently green floating water-plants.
          Bright the mirrored reeds and rushes.
          I am a lover of true quietness.  
          Watching the flow of clear water
          I dream of sitting on the uncarved rock
          casting a line on the endless stream.

Algy dedicates this post to all his friends who are feeling the debilitating effects of a long-drawn-out winter xoxoxo

[ Algy is quoting the poem Green-Water Stream by the 8th century Tang Dynasty Chinese poet Wang Wei, in a translation by the contemporary English writer A. S. Kline. ]

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