Poems of Meng Jiao
A strong man of indomitable judgment.
But in a fire, even stones will crack.
He never repented of the men he'd killed.
And he killed himself as if he were coming back.
Who could have guessed his eyes would fill with tears?
He was willing that his hair should all turn white.
But for half his life, no one had shown him kindness.
And his sword had been idle eight long years.
One of Meng Jiao's walking poems. Something reminded him of an old friend. You meet people on the road. Later, sometimes, you hear how their lives turned out.