But not the other valley. No one comes
Near its serene reality. The tall
Bow of the water bends itself and drums
On the bare rocks. No voice will ever call
Or ever answer from the valley wall.
Untouched by dream it hangs in emptiness,
And the pure stream pours on and is no less.
Near its serene reality. The tall
Bow of the water bends itself and drums
On the bare rocks. No voice will ever call
Or ever answer from the valley wall.
Untouched by dream it hangs in emptiness,
And the pure stream pours on and is no less.
