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

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

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

The living is a passing traveler; The dead, a man come home.

Bears, dragons, tempestuous on mountain and river, Startle the forest and make the heights tremble. Clouds darken beneath the darkness of rain, streams pale with a pallor of mist. The gods of Thunder and Lightning Shatter the whole range.

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.

Since Life is but a Dream, Why toil to no avail?