Rehashing the southern house,
but not truly
because it is Zhāi shí -
and time for fasting.
Lion-eating poet in the stone den
tendrils in my mind exchange
as if the moon still glistened.
Yuen Ren Chao where are you now in shi?
Illusions in the night.
The gentle wind is blowing still,
and effervescences
the limpid River
that flows within your heart.
A poem on a poem:
