THE SECONDARY CAUSE 

He rides behind the curtains of the forest, Zhou, in the whistling nightmare wind;

He wonders at the devil knowing many things now he is getting old;

Between warm gusts of wind the silver moon slits the sky like paper through skin,  

And to restore lost territory within the courtyard of a fine house he dreams;

Looks lazy, Zhou, and loosened: this loosening his grateful acknowledgement

Of the grace of rebirth in the transparent ruby courts of his own country  

Beyond the gates of the city far away now: here the currents are mild.

The shores of the lake were rounded and gently sloping; 

When the enemy state was destroyed the minister who gave   

Counsel was no more and the fragrance of musk and orchids

Anaesthetized his memory of civil examinations and the holding of

Government posts: just clouds, dramas travelling at speed over the silent

Mountain harmonizing white dew in the morning seemed to Zhou radium glowing,
Showing up his nervous system; but it could be that it can no longer be said like this.