Dragonfly wings ... shining silken garments. Now my heart is aching. Who will give it rest?
Young Dragonfly wings ... rich embroidered garments. Now my heart is aching. Who will give it peace?
Dragonfly bursting its cocoon ... plain white linen garments. Now my hearts aching. Who will give it love?
~The Book of Songs (cited: Anonymous,The Jade Flute. Project Gutenberg
Looking backward ... I cannot see the ancients of days.
Looking forward ... I cannot see ages yet to come.
Only heaven and earth have remained,
And will remain forever ...
I am alone, I grieve, I drop tears into the dust ~Chen Tzu-ang
Glazed silk, newly cut, smooth, glittering, white,
As white, as clear, even as frost and snow.
Perfectly fashioned into a fan,
Round, round, like the brilliant moon,
Treasured in my Lord's sleeve, taken out, put in—
Wave it, shake it, and a little wind flies from it.
How often I fear the Autumn Season's coming
And the fierce, cold wind which scatters the blazing heat.
Discarded, passed by, laid in a box alone;
Such a little time, and the thing of love cast off.
The traveler goes on,His sleeves blowing back and forth
With the autumn wind,
And the evening sun sheds lonely light
Upon the bridge suspended between the cliffs.
~Miner, Introduction to Japanese Court Poetry, 115