Visiting Master Zhao and Not Finding Him
- Poetry of Yu Xuanji

I wanted to be with someone

of spiritual refinement

I find his house is empty,

only the maid is home

his crucible's still warm

from cooking up herb medicines

outside in the courtyard

tea leaves are still simmering

a few dim lamps

next to the painted walls

a long shadow by the signal pole

that faces the setting sun

as I leave I keep turning around

hoping to find he's come back—

just a few blooming branches

brushing the outside walls.