“Wen Yu knew it not only because he kept careful track of the days, but also because the weather was warming noticeably. The trees already bore soft new leaves, and the struggling, bent cherry tree outside his window was beginning to bear the tight little buds that would soon be blossoms. Wen Yu was bent over his desk, critiquing his older works of poetry, when a tapping came at the edge of his window. Looking up and around, Wen Yu saw a small brown bird. It was not a thrush this time, but anoth...er bird he could not place. "What are you doing?" the bird said, voice high and sharp. "What are you doing sitting there when you should be translating the Moon Poems? You were chosen." With that, the bird turned and took several little awkward hops across the tile of the roof outside Wen Yu's window, before it took to the sky. Wen Yu sat back and shook his head. He had no idea what to make of this new message; he turned back to the poems spread out across his desk. They were finely crafted; if he tinkered with them any further, they would be ruined.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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