A DREAM LIKE SONG

                                   ——李清照

　　Last night the strong wind blew with a rain fine;

　　sound sleep did not dispel the aftertaste of wine.

　　I ask the maid rolling up screen.

　　“The same crab apple,” says she,

　　“can be seen.” “But don’t you know, oh ,

　　don’t you know the red should languish and the green should grow?”