A fairy in a dream became a dragonfly,
And the dragonfly became a fairy at waking.
Which was the real--the dragonfly or the fairy?
Who can tell the end of the endless changes of things?
The water that flows into the depth of the distant sea
Returns anon to the shallows of a transparent stream.
The man, raising melons outside the green gate of the city,
Was once the Prince of the East Hill.
So must rank and riches vanish.
You know it, still you toil and toil,--what for?

-Poem by Li Po, modified by Liza

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