THE WIND BLOWS, THE WHITE CLOUDS RUN, THE GRASS PALES, THE TREES FALL BARE, THE GEESE FLY SOUTH. BUT THE ORCHIDS BLOOM, CHRYSANTHEMUMS GIVE THEIR SCENT. I THINK OF MY LOVELY GIRL. I MUST LEAVE HER, BUT I CAN NOT FORGET.

I AM ROWED ACROSS THE RIVER ON MY PLEASURE BARGE, ACROSS THE RIVER WITH WHITE WAVES RISING. FLUTE AND DRUM AND ROWERS’ SONG GO WITH ME. NOW THE FEASTING, NOW THE DANCING ... BUT STILL MY HEART IS SAD AND WILL NOT DANCE.

HOW FEW OUR YEARS OF GOLDEN YOUTH! HOW CERTAIN OUR GRAY YEARS OF AGE! [Emperor Wu-ti]