When the white moon shines bright over silent mountains, and the wind in the pines is silent, poets still find inspiration: Wang Wei, hearing a rushing stream gurgle through jumbled rocks and flow away into the still depths of a pine forest, savored a pure sound which cannot be found in the clamorous world of men.
當山明月露白，夜靜松風歇，詩人還欲罷不能，「聲喧亂石中，色靜深松裡」，王維聽溪流沖過亂石灘頭，譁啦譁啦；穿過松林深處，靜默無聲，玩味在塵世難有的清音裡。