![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
Entry tags:
Word and Image
In this ever changing world where mountains crumble, rivers change their courses, roads are deserted, rocks are buried, and old trees yield to young shoots, it was nothing short of a miracle that this monument alone had survived the battering of a thousand years to be the living memory of the ancients.
I felt as if I were in the presence of the ancients themselves, and, forgetting all the troubles I had suffered on the road, rejoiced in the utter happiness of this joyful moment, not without tears in my eyes.
Narrow Road to The Deep North - entry 19
The Travel Diary of Poet Basho
1644-1694