After Wu Ti
Kushih
Autumn winds blow, white clouds roll
Tree leaves wither, geese fly south,
late roses bloom in sweetness.
I think of my love, whom I cant forget,
parted by deaths decree.
In my heart she lives yet,
in my dreams her face I see.
To love is to be hostage
to fate. Should I not love?
Bright are the blossoms of love
must I not regret their passing?
Revised 14.03.2006
Kushih
Autumn winds blow, white clouds roll
Tree leaves wither, geese fly south,
late roses bloom in sweetness.
I think of my love, whom I cant forget,
parted by deaths decree.
In my heart she lives yet,
in my dreams her face I see.
To love is to be hostage
to fate. Should I not love?
Bright are the blossoms of love
must I not regret their passing?
Revised 14.03.2006


