Leaves falling one by one
and rain at dusk is tender
vermilion lute, playing alone
sound of a clear voice singing
try to ignore your regret
at having no intimate friends or lovers
try to build up your character
and cast your bitterness into the sea
sound of a carriage outside the door
come for some venerable elder
heaps of Taoist books
scattered in front of the pillow
raggedly dressed people
eventually go to heaven
green water and blue hills
already here and gone.
- Yu Xuanji, translated by David Young and Jiann I. Lin