Feng hsi wu
.
Waiting expectantly high in the tower in a slim breeze
I see to the reaches of space -- only spring sorrow
Growing, dark, dark, to the edge of heaven
The sunset on the mist colors the grass
Words are useless -- who would understand why
I linger by the rail?
I should have one mad fling, get drunk --
"When there's wine, sing" --
But forced joy has no flavor
My belt grows loose -- never mind
I'm pale and worn -- she's worth it!
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