The waves at the prow
As waves at the ship’s prow meet and part asunder,
Love like water comes welling up o’er my heart.
My lord, you were born in the sky of passion, your handmaid was nurtured in the sea of lust.
Thus the amber sky meets with the water, yea, water and sky are met together.
We toys of rouge and powder, how can we be unchanging as are the green hills?
Look at yon cankered flowers on the face of the water: then you may pity our plight.
The years flow past like a river: I know not how long they will flow.
Needs must a man love his own self.
Though after death you were canonized a Buddha or a saint, I doubt if you will truly rest in peace.
Aye! ‘twere better to cull pleasure as chance offers, and dwell with you in the Hall of the Moon and the Tower of the Winds.