To the tune of "Bodhisattva Aliens" <br /> <br />Soft breezes, mild sunshine, <br /> spring is still young. <br />The sudden change of the light <br /> brightened my spirit. <br /> <br />But upon awakening from slumber, <br /> I felt the chill air; <br />The plum flower withered in my hair. <br /> <br />Where can I call my native land? <br />Forget - I cannot, except in wine <br /> when I drown my care. <br /> <br />Incense was lighted when I went to sleep; <br />Though the embers are now cold, <br /> the warmth of wine still burns on.<br /><br />Li Ching Chao<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tz-u-no-10-exile/
