We always knew the world would sink in snow each year.
One winter, we suffered as before,
But no one would measure our ordeal,
Until a stargazer staked a pole, setting stones day by day,
Year by year, each time the shadows moved.
His unbound hair whitened like the ice on his robes,
But he could soon predict when the sun
Would pierce night on the shortest of days.
And once that day had come,
He knew the ice would melt
And the shadows tremble in the plum blossom breeze.
(Hexagam 19 of the I Ching, translated by Deng Ming-Dao)
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