From an ancient Chinese Ballad of the fourth century A.D.
There is some one of whom I keep a-thinking;
There is some one whom I visit in my dreams,
Though a hundred hills stand sentinel between us,
And the dark rage of a hundred sunless streams.
For the same bright moon is kind to us,
And the same untrammelled wind to us,
Daring a hundred hills,
Whispers the word that thrills.
And the dust of my heart, laid bare,
Shows the lilies that linger there.