A long time ago, there was a fisherman in China whose main occupation was tending for the junks that laid near the shore line. He would do this after all the fishermen had return from the fishing rounds of the day.At the sunset, we would lay next to the junks and take out is fishing pole and took the chance to become one with the moment. The sea of tranquility would embrace him as the sun laid to rest.
The beautiful thing about this fisherman was that he was happy with his routine. He never felt alone, because the sea would speak to him in waves of contentement and the sun would softly warm his cheaks as the night wagon passed by careless of the bumps in the wind, thus spreading random stars throughout the sky.
The fisherman would wait for the moon to rise, we would whisper a song that only the moon would understand and happilly would go about his way.
In silence the moon would enchant the land with its magical spread, leaving the mood as soft and mellow as the wind made some stars fell.
The fisherman song would be:
"I take a bottle of wine and I go to drink it among the flowers.
We are always three, counting my shadow and my friend, the shimmering moon.
Happilly the moon knows nothing of drinking and my shadow is never thirst.
When sing, the moon listens to me.
When I dance, my shadow dances too.
After all festivities, all guests must depart.
This sadness, I do not know.
When I go home, the moon goes with me, and my shadow, follows..."
To this day, the fisherman sings his song to the early stars, teaching them that they are never alone.
He does this as he's fishing junks at sunset.
