Yu Xuanji - Late spring
Type of Spiritual Experience
A description of the experience
My simple gate’s worn-out. In this deep lane, no one stops by.
That handsome long-ago poet-love lingers only in my dreams:
gauze robes swirl, scented dance at the bed-mat in whose home,
and song drifts off towers, bidding wind farewell where, where?
Here, war-drums in the streets fill sleep with their dawn racket,
and in courtyard idleness, magpie chatter tangles spring grief.
How can I fathom a world of human care, when I’m on my own
ten thousand long miles away, an unmoored boat drifting free?