But do you think I'm taking up too much time now?
I mean, should I start cutting them?
[INAUDIBLE]
How long has it been?
But you haven't spoken [INAUDIBLE]
But I've got a whole lot.
I want to cut some out maybe.
[INAUDIBLE]
I didn't quite know how to go.
I think some of these could go.
[INAUDIBLE]
Well, why don't I just start cutting them out?
Yeah.
"Lines to a $2 Chinese Print.
Now the snow has come.
And an old tiger hunts in the brush along the Great
Wall, which lies in ruins.
The dogs are bristle necked and walk stiff legged in the tiger
tracks.
They yelp in the village, where the cocks pick up their tunes.
The sheep groan and the large unslaughtered boar grunts.
Fresh snow falls.
Clouds of snow obscure the sun.
No one will follow him.
But the tracking fox that leaped with the dogs
will run until his feet bleed.
In an inspiring frenzy, he will be
leaped upon by the tiger, who will eat and return and eat
again, until only a ravaged stack of ruddy skin and ripped
snow matted tail remain.
The tiger gasps as he breathes.
His belly hangs low.
His jowls are bearded with snow.
He sleeps alone.
Ague and frost have stretched his lip to a grin.
The ermines slip like shadows melting into stone."