Day breaks through the courtyard gates.
The spirits begin to assemble on a vaporous shore.
Golden fog spreads thick before me,
like the cloak of night I am wearily stepping out of.
I hear the snort of fiery chariot horses
on the other side of this simple gate, on which,
despite the brilliant glow haloing it, you can still see chipped, paintless wood.
Rearing up, they expose the design of their machinery,
The spirits begin to assemble on a vaporous shore.
Golden fog spreads thick before me,
like the cloak of night I am wearily stepping out of.
I hear the snort of fiery chariot horses
on the other side of this simple gate, on which,
despite the brilliant glow haloing it, you can still see chipped, paintless wood.
Rearing up, they expose the design of their machinery,
a timebox ticking loudly in that hour before work.
The driver of this magnificent chariot, the mighty Helios,
seems to be having trouble breaking through
the barricade between illusion and reality.
I watch as the magnificent gleaming hairs of their manes creep over the fence,
trying to find another way around.
Suddenly, at 8 o'clock, they plunge into the heavens,
and their shadows - pale yellow sunlight - pour into my room.
The driver of this magnificent chariot, the mighty Helios,
seems to be having trouble breaking through
the barricade between illusion and reality.
I watch as the magnificent gleaming hairs of their manes creep over the fence,
trying to find another way around.
Suddenly, at 8 o'clock, they plunge into the heavens,
and their shadows - pale yellow sunlight - pour into my room.
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