|Thirty-eight can navigate the tides,|
Having long observed the moon within.
Incoming is the feast that one awaits,
Retreating as one's appetite abates,
The bounty shared by all who've ever been.
Years come and go; harmony abides.
Even when surrounded on all sides
Instinct inundated by the din,
Given but a moment she relates
How things are to currents that begin
The hairpin turn that fearlessly she rides.