Sunday, November 1, 2015

The Hills Were Alive, in Yanqing

The hills were alive, with the sound of music,
With songs they had sung for a thousand years.
The hills filled our hearts, with the sound of music.
Our hearts wanted to sing every song they heard.

Our hearts wanted to beat,
Like the wings of the birds that rise from the lake to the trees.
Our hearts wanted to sigh,
Like a chime that flies from a church on a breeze.

To laugh like a brook when it trips and falls over stones on its way,
To sing through the night, like a lark who is learning to pray.

We went to the hills when our hearts were lonely;
We knew we would hear what we'd heard before.

Our hearts were blessed with the sound of music.
And we'll sing once more.