They were variously refined and elegant, cold and shadowy, flirtatious and teasing, or stern and iron-willed.
As for her, amid the glittering mortal world, she only wished to remain true to herself and drift with the current.
At the end of her tether, she inscribed a verse on the sheer cliff face. With him, she would part forever.
“If I'd known that, of the three thousand rivers, one dipper could wash my hair white,
I would have spent half my life a carefree wanderer,
and the other half waiting for you beyond the grave.”
If, a thousand years from now, I return beneath the moon, singing as I go, who would still be willing to share a sleeve full of drifting blossoms with me?
