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Tz'u No. 10 (Exile)

To the tune of “Bodhisattva Aliens”

Soft breezes, mild sunshine,
Spring is still young.
The sudden change of the light
Brightened my spirit.

But upon awakening from slumber,
I felt the chill air;
The plum flower withered in my hair.

Where can I call my native land?
Forget – I cannot, except in wine
When I drown my care.

Incense was lighted when I went to sleep;
Though the embers are now cold,
The warmth of wine still burns on.


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Poem Tz'u No. 10 (Exile) - Li Ching Chao