Beneath the blossoms with a pot of wine, No friends at hand, so I poured alone; I raised my cup to invite the moon, Turned to my shadow, and we became three.

The paired butterflies are already yellow with August Over the grass in the West garden; They hurt me. I grow older.

The world is like a great empty dream. Why should one toil away one's life?

Shade and light are different in every valley.

You ask me why I dwell in the green mountain; I smile and make no reply for my heart is free of care. As the peach-blossom flows down stream and is gone into the unknown, I have a world apart that is not among men.

Heaven is high, Earth Wide. Bitter between them flies my sorrow.

In a universe animated by the interaction of yin (female) and yang (male) energies, the moon was literally yin visible. Indeed, it was the very germ or source of yin, and the sun was its yang counterpart.