The Dream of the Chrysanthemums by River Queen
Light-headed in my autumn bed I lie
And seem to chase the moon across the sky.
Not imitate Zhuang's flittering butterfly!
Well,if immortal,I'll go seek old Tao,
Following the wild goose,into sleep I slid;
From which now,startled by the cricket's cry,
Midst cold and fog and dying leaves I wake,
With no one by to tell of my heart's ache.