One Thought, a Mortal Life · Above and Below, All Connected · 86 / 102
· Passing By
Sinking deep into sleep, dream folded in dream, I never reach the end of it. In the deep yard of the back court I pluck a red apricot blossom; the ancient water traces a reflection.
In the dream I barely make it through realm after realm—a full hundred years and more. It is not the heart but the that bears the wordless weight; the unrest settles a little.
Glosses—
Pluck [xié]: to pick off;
Not [fěi]: an adverb, meaning 'not'.
*This is an original work. If you reprint it, please credit the original author Shixi Lin; any infringement, once discovered, will be pursued for legal liability. In addition, the accompanying image comes from the internet and belongs to the original illustrator Gugeli.