Autumn leaves falling, now and again,

on the byway lined with bamboos.

The clouds turn a reddish pink

with the sun in the high plains shining.

A horizon of ethereal, soft moonlight

emanates a fragrance of heavenly delight.

Some lifetimes of nostalgic poetry

from the wanderings of an exiled fairy.

Waking up from a dream of “Life’s an Illusion”,

feeling isolated like a deserted island.

Enter a club of pen and letters.

Now and then, having fun writing a few verses...

From somewhere the music of guzheng playing

an enchanting epiphyllum flower melody.