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by Charles Carreon
There is gold for the rising
sun,
And red for the time when it sets.
Green boughs adorn the curving hills,
and blue resides in the depth of the sky.
The purest light is the heart of the sun,
and its absence the essence of night.
In the weight of the earth, nothingness --
In the nothingness of sky, endless abundance --
Mountains rise high into the air,
Water swiftly descends from a height,
Wind travels everywhere without hindrance,
And the arrows of the sun are numberless and swift.
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