SepArAt!0n...
Blue mountains to the north of the walls,
White river winding about them;
Here we must make separation
And go out through a thousand miles of dead grass.

Mind like a floating wide cloud,
Sunset like the parting of old acquaintances
Who bow over their clasped hands at a distance.
Our voices call to each others
as we are departing.

2m2, jUs a fEw mOre dAys... mAke tHe bEst oF waDs lEft...