Perhaps kisses
Perhaps tears
They immerse me
In your pure, lovely soul
Like a ripe peach hanging high
Above the admirer
How could it be that the sun
Had fallen onto a branch
Of the peach tree
Tsangyang Gyatso (1683-1706)
Perhaps kisses
Perhaps tears
They immerse me
In your pure, lovely soul
Like a ripe peach hanging high
Above the admirer
How could it be that the sun
Had fallen onto a branch
Of the peach tree
Tsangyang Gyatso (1683-1706)