Early one morning he walked before his door, dragging his staff. And he sang.
Is Mount Tai falling. Is the roof beam breaking. Is the wise man withering.
Zigong heard it and came running.
The Last Years 4, The Death of Confucius
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Early one morning he walked before his door, dragging his staff. And he sang.
Is Mount Tai falling. Is the roof beam breaking. Is the wise man withering.
Zigong heard it and came running.
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