there is laughter
children’s voices
rise and fall
in the morning mist
my mind drifts
hearing other voices
in the mist
of time
so long ago
mist
Flower Unlike Flower by Po Chü-yi
A flower, and yet not a flower
Of mist, and yet not of mist
At midnight she comes
And at daybreak, leaves.
She comes like a spring dream, for how long?
She goes like morning dew, without a trace.
translated by Eugene Eoyang