The inlaid harp

I wonder why my inlaid harp has fifty strings,

Each with its flower-like fret an interval of youth.

...The sage Chuangzi is day-dreaming, bewitched by butterflies,

The spring-heart of Emperor Wang is crying in a cuckoo,

Mermen weep their pearly tears down a moon-green sea,

Blue fields are breathing their jade to the sun....

And a moment that ought to have lasted for ever

Has come and gone before I knew.