Spring in Ch ang-an Fallen States still have hills and streams. Cities, in Spring, have leaves and grass. Though tears well at half-open flowers. Though parted birds rise with secret fears. War beacons shine through triple moons.
Home news is worth more than gold.
Thin on this head that s too small for its cap. Moon at Night in Ch ang-an North of here in the moonlight She too looks up in loneliness. I am sad for our little children, Too young to think of far off Ch ang-an. Clouds of hair wet with jewelled mist. Cold light on arms of jade.