For works with similar titles, see Exile.
Exile
The sun is only the sun here
But every day when he goes to China
He is a celestial dragon breathing gold and scarlet.
And the moon here is only a moon
But over the pagodas she is a white phoenix,
And there the stars are little silver unicorns with crystal crowns.
But every day when he goes to China
He is a celestial dragon breathing gold and scarlet.
And the moon here is only a moon
But over the pagodas she is a white phoenix,
And there the stars are little silver unicorns with crystal crowns.
The iris are not like our iris, nor the chrysanthemums like our chrysanthemums
For at dusk they hide bewitching carmine mouths behind little fans
And the garden is filled with the sound of their hurrying slippers.
The willow trees too cover white faces with their long sleeves
And the fox bride is pledged in cups of jade.
For at dusk they hide bewitching carmine mouths behind little fans
And the garden is filled with the sound of their hurrying slippers.
The willow trees too cover white faces with their long sleeves
And the fox bride is pledged in cups of jade.
And we,
We are only lovers here
But who knows what we might be—
In China?
We are only lovers here
But who knows what we might be—
In China?