to the tune of "Joy
in the Oriole
With dawn the moon declines.
The morning clouds disperse.
I lie wordless propped against my pillows.
With longing, longing thoughts of dreams
gone back to fragrant meadows.
Heaven is high; the geese are scarcely heard.
The orioles twitter and fly away.
The last flowers fall to pieces.
I am lonely in the center of the palace.
"Stop them sweeping up those fallen petals in the garden!
Leave them for the dancing girls to walk on, going home..."