Stilled, I clutch my lonely pillow. Forgetting that the Self exists, That is the mind s greatest joy. Lament for Mr Tai Wine-maker there by Yellow Fountains, Eternal Spring that s still your vintage. The Huangquan, the Yellow Fountains, and Night s Terrace, are names for the gloomy realm of the dead below the earth inhabited by spiritual and ethereal beings. Waking from Drunken Sleep on a Spring Day .
Life is a dream.
No need to stir. I m drunk all day. Lying helpless beside the porch, Waking to see the deep garden. One bird calls among the flowers. Song of the oriole in Spring breezes, Voice of beauty sadly moves me.