Here are records of man and woman,
Of sun, mountain, sea, and moon,
Of shining rivers and terraced gardens,
From very far away
And mostly from very long ago,
From a people so alien
In skin, profile, gait, raiment,
And in manner of eating and drinking,
Of saluting and bidding farewell,
Of so strange a speech too. . . .
Yet how simple and near are the records,
Like the family-papers of a friend
Across the street.