A volume of Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio appears and vanishes amid the mists of time. But if we brush away the dust of legend, could there really have been so many deep bonds between humans and spirits, so many lovesick men and women?
I still remember when we first met,
How tenderly we clung to one another.
We swore our love would never change.
But now,
Your heart is like the moon,
Waxing and waning, here and there.
I regret ever having met you.
No wonder people say, "If only life could always be as it was when we first met..."
