Cranes move south as the wind rises
Desolate scenery
Sitting alone, brewing a pot of tea
Brewing into nightfall beneath the lanterns
From miles away, I think of him
A needle and a stitch embroidering a flower.
Dawn frost climbs up the umber roof tiles
Trembling frost falls, my tea has gone cold
Love and hate rise and fall, once the story has passed only I
remain
Parting sorrows, finally understanding the affairs of the world,
have all descended into drink
Asking you, “Is something
lost when your heart is absent?”
And still you never reply.
