On a spring day I wake from drinking and state my aspirations
Living in this world is like a big dream—
why labor your life away?
So I’ll be drunk all day,
and topple over, sleeping in the front hall.
Waking up, glancing round the courtyard,
a single bird sings in the flowers.
Were I to ask the season,
the spring wind would speak in soaring orioles.
The breath goes right out of me.
I pour myself another cup of wine.
I sing in floods, I wait for the bright moon.
When the tune ends, I’ll already have forgotten these feelings.