i used to think that time was a stagnant pool
tainted with the sadness of civilization
and when i dreamed, i searched for a fair land
that i once knew, where the lamplight was soft

and my mood of the evening was vermilion, capable
of blushing with a shy innocence..  this life
that  we find ourselves in is distant and soon at an end,
and you begin to realize that  you can only comprehend
a few common allusions in classical poetry
this side of lotus leaves,
that's all there's time for in this life

tomorrow sways gently in the branches
of the weeping willow,  i know that you will interpret
this moment in whatever way is inevitable
in the way you always do things.  you are, after all
stepping to the rhythm of your own life
somewhere between  the Elegantiae and the Greater Odes,

unaffected by any music i chance to make