To the tune of "Rinsing Silk Stream" <br /> <br />Let not the deep cup be filled <br /> with rich, amber-colored wine; <br />My mind was eased of sorrow <br /> even before I was drunk. <br />Distant bells have already echoed <br /> in the evening breeze. <br /> <br />My dream is broken <br /> as the scent of incense vanishes. <br />Too small, the hairpin of the gold <br /> of warding-off-cold <br /> loosens its hold of my tresses. <br /> <br />I awake to find myself blankly facing <br /> the red flickering glow <br /> of the candle.<br /><br />Li Ching Chao<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tz-u-no-7/
