I wonder why my inlaid harp has fifty strings, Each with its flower-like fret an interval of youth. ...The sage Chuangzi is day-dreaming, bewitched by butterflies, The spring-heart of Emperor Wang is crying in a cuckoo, Mermen weep their pearly tears down a moon-green sea, Blue fields are breathing their jade to the sun.... And a moment that ought to have lasted for ever Has come and gone before I knew.