TO ONE UNNAMED
The stars of last night and the wind of last night
Are west of the Painted Chamber and east of Cinnamon Hall.
……Though I have for my body no wings like those of the bright- coloured phoenix，
Yet I feel the harmonious heart-beat of the Sacred Unicorn.
Across the spring-wine， while it warms me， I prompt you how to bet
Where， group by group， we are throwing dice in the light of a crimson lamp；
Till the rolling of a drum， alas， calls me to my duties
And I mount my horse and ride away， like a water-plant cut adrift.