DREAMING OF YÜAN CHĒN
This was written eight years after Yüan Chēn's deaths when Po-Chü'i was sixty-eight.
At night you came and took my hand and we wandered together in my dream;
When I woke in the morning there was no one to stop the tears that fell on my handkerchief.
On the banks of the Ch'ang my aged body three times[1] has passed through sickness;
At Hsien-yang[2] to the grasses on your grave eight times has autumn come.
You lie buried beneath the springs and your bones are mingled with the clay.
I — lodging in the world of men; my hair white as snow.
A-wei and Han-lang[3] both followed in their turn;
Among the shadows of the Terrace of Night did you know them or not?
[ 237 ]
