When these wild plum trees just start
To burst their buds, I recall my fellows,
My old brethren in the harsh wilderness:
One was a ferryman, another a woodcutter,
Who once upon a time gave me the saplings.
Whereas the times we used to drink together,
Sitting beneath these blossom trees, are fallen
In oblivion, those years of ten or so springs ago
Are like old snapshots to me, and the wine cups
Of those days I now use as tea-bowls to entertain
Some rare those who stay away from the highway
To be one with themselves, Nature and Providence.
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Reflection of good old times past with as Ron says, original souls with original
thoughts...these times are golden...and simply the best...
Some things are even better for the remembrance...
Diana...
Ron