All ruins, the empire; mountains and rivers in view.
To the city, spring: grass and trees are thick.
The times strike. Before flowers, tears break loose.
Separation cuts. Birds startle our heart.
Beacon fires continued for three months on end.
A letter from home is worth thousands of gold pieces.
White hair, scratched, becomes thinner and thinner,
So thin it can hardly hold a pin.. W.Yip
A semi-abstract fusion of western and eastern principles in painting
Watercolour, Dyes, Ink, Charcoal, and Pastel, on Indian Paper