THE BREATH OF SPRING IS EVERYWHERE, IN EVERY FACE. THE MIMOSA CASTS ITS DELICATE SHADOWS ... MY DREAMS ARE BUTTERFLIES ... THE FRAGRANCE OF THE QUINCE INTOXICATES LIKE WINE.

BUT I PLUCK THE WILLOW OF SORROW. A GULF DIVIDES US, AND THERE IS NO FAIRY BRIDGE OF BIRDS TO CARRY ME ACROSS.

I WEEP ALONE BEFORE MY SILVER LAMP AND GROW FRAIL AS HSIAO YAN THE SLENDER BEAUTY. WHEN SHALL WE SHARE A NIGHT LIKE THIS, A SPRING NIGHT LIKE THIS, AND MEET TOGETHER UNDER A FULL MOON? [Anonymous]