Where the Mist Meets the River.

Where ancient pagodas touch the sky,And mountain clouds drift slowly by,The river wears the moon’s pale light,A silver path through endless night. The bamboo flute begins to sigh,A lonely song beneath the sky.Its tender breath, its quiet tone,Awakes the dreams of hearts alone. The guzheng strings like raindrops fall,Their gentle echoes softly call.Through misty peaks […]