Poem 21


The west wind ruffles my thin gauze clothing.

On the hill sits a tall building with a room of wooden planks.

I wish I could travel on a cloud far away, reunite with my wife and son.

When the moonlight shines on me alone, the nights seem even longer.

At the head of the bed there is wine and my heart is constantly drunk.

There is no flower beneath my pillow and my dreams are not sweet.

To whom can I confide my innermost feelings?

I rely solely on close friends to relieve my loneliness.


Introduction | Voyage | Family and Dreams | Outpour | Poetry | Conclusion