| Release us into rhythm fields where golden wheat waves to the moon in time with the pendulum, our heartbeats Feathers will frame our faces as we rise from golden earth we will roll cloth baskets to hold the finest powders of every colour Dressed in fuschia, I will hold a wooden bowl with floating yellow blooms, I will offer praises and sing ancient soft melodies The green of our voices will delight the wind, the empty wells will fill at the sight of love, gracious are the gates of bamboo |
| Gates of Bamboo |
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