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Poem

O Glorious and Wise Empire of the East 
Slaughtered by cold winter’s wrath and the azure dragon 
For this world had no place to lay your gentle head 
Your monasteries of light now some mists of black soot 
Your masterful art now mere fragments burned by flames 
Your songs to the sun and moon now dead whisps of the wind 
Your glory was a brief shooting star in the night 	

You were a holy mountain, with rivers flowing 
Rivers with elect sailing to the four ends of the world  
Where trees and flowers sang songs of liberation 
With your horses’ galloping being the sweet tune of life 

Whispers of your bravery and wisdom still resound today 
Your treasure, in the dragon’s nest, waiting to shine again 
May another white shooting star enlighten the world again 
O you Sovereign and Glorious Empire of the East

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