(Everything has gone quiet...
)
A thousand mountains the birds have all flown
Ten thousand paths not a footprint is shown
A lone little boat, an old man in straw cloak and hat
Fishing the freezing river snow just him, just that
Snow is falling on a thousand hills
Every path is empty, every bird is still
One old man, one boat, one fishing line
Alone in the snow, doing just fine
The world went away, but he chose to stay
Fishing the silence the whole cold day
A thousand mountains the birds have all flown
Ten thousand paths not a footprint is shown
A lone little boat, an old man in straw cloak and hat
Fishing the freezing river snow just him, just that
Yo, they call it lonely, I call it peace
Every bird flew south, every voice found release
A thousand mountains holding their breath in white
Ten thousand footprints erased overnight
No crowd to impress, no race to run
One straw hat under a hidden sun
They ask what he's catching man, you missed the point
The fish don't matter when you own the joint
Stillness is a skill that the loud never learn
Patience is a fire that the frozen still burn
Liu Zongyuan painted it in twenty little words
A universe of quiet with no need for birds
So when the world empties and the snow starts to fall
Grab your line, find your river answer the call
The catch of the day is a mind that's clear
Alone on the water, with nothing to fear
Snow is falling on a thousand hills
Every path is empty, every bird is still
One old man, one boat, one fishing line
Alone in the snow, doing just fine
The world went away, but he chose to stay
Fishing the silence the whole cold day
No birds...
no tracks...
no sound...
One old man...
on frozen ground...
Snow keeps falling...
line stays still...
The river's quiet...
and so is his will...