Daydreaming and Confusion Are Not Sleep
Spring has arrived, the flowers are in bloom, yet I lie languidly in bed, tossing and turning, unable to find peace, love elusive, burning my eyes, blurring my vision, not aligning with reality, lost in a haze of bewilderment…
Lazy lying in bed, drowsy and confused,Worries and anxieties, absent in the writing,The flowers and moon bring only a thousand sorrows,Ink fails to capture the redness of the world,Turning over and over, no taste to be found,Wishing to compose a poem, yet lacking a heart; lost in bewilderment, eyes unable to see the sleeping god, thoughts scattered, with no north or south, how can ink and brush produce such beauty!
A tangle of worries accompany day and night,Unintoxicated, the eyes slant upwards,Who knows when the east wind blows, will the days be filled with verdant fragrance, yet the brush has no soul?
Let it be, with no quietude of mind, lying without savoring taste, or shall I sit upright and turn the pages, to see who can unravel the threads of worry, who can soothe the weary appearance of a silver-haired friend…!
A single note of ink conveys the beauty of the red pavilion,Unconcerned with rules and style, indulging in poetic language,Delivering a single poem, touching the essence of love!
Digging with the pen, expressing simple feelings, pure in intention, respectfully awaiting the response of a dear friend, modestly expressing a small thought, fearing a grand and ostentatious display in the red dust, leaving behind only a stretch of genuine elegance,
……
