A FLUTE AT NIGHT
HERE ON THE FAR SOUTHERN BORDER THE SAND BELOW THE MOUNTAIN LIES LIKE A FIELD OF SNOW, THE MOONLIGHT IS LIKE FROST ALONG THE CITY-WALL. SOMEONE SOMEWHERE PLAYING ON HIS FLUTE HAS MADE THE NORTHERN SOLDIERS HOMESICK ALL NIGHT LONG. [Li Yi]
WATCHING AND WONDERING
HIGH ON A HILL, LOOKING DOWN ON THE WINDY LAKE. SEE: A LITTLE ROCKING BOAT, STORM-TOSSED LIKE OUR LIFE TOGETHER. NOW MIST HAS HIDDEN BOAT AND JOURNEY.
OVER THE MIST THE SUN SETS FAR OFF IN HEAVEN. ONLY HILLS ARE RED: FIELD, HOLLOW AND LAKE ARE BLUE WITH SHADOW.
NOW ISLANDS IN THE LAKE ARE BLACK PEARLS SET IN AMETHYST. NOW THAT WOODED HILL, A HEAD OF WAVING WOMAN’S HAIR, IS BLACK. AND SEE, A CRESCENT COMB OF SILVER MOON.
SAD AND HAPPY, I PICK UP MY LUTE AND SING UNTIL THE STARS GROW PALE. [Tsiang-Tien]
BEST HAPPINESS OF ALL
I AM OLD AND I AM BORED. I WAS NEVER VERY WISE AND MY MIND HAS NEVER WALKED MUCH FURTHER THAN MY FEET. ONLY MY FOREST, MY FOREST ... I GO BACK AND BACK TO WANDER THERE.