Amidst War and
Beauty
The land is broken, mountains and rivers remain,
In the city, spring brings deep
growth of trees and grain.
Tears fall like petals when I
think of days gone by,
And my heart aches when birds
leave, making me cry.
The beacon fire burns for three months
without cease,
Letters from home, worth
ten-thousand pieces of peace.
My hair turns white as I grow
older, shorter every day,
Yet, my longing only grows
stronger, cannot be swayed. |