a procession long. Their chariots drawn by phoenix disciplined, And tigers playing for them a zither song, Row upon row, like fields of hemp, immortals throng. Suddenly my heart and soul stirred, I Awake with long, long sighs. I find my head on pillow lies And fair visions have gone by. Likewise all human joys will pass away Just as east-flowing water of olden day. I'll take my leave of you, not knowing for how long; I'll tend a white deer among The grassy slopes of the green hill So that I may ride it to famous mountains at will. How can I stoop and bow before the men in power and so deny myself a happy hour?
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