19 JULY 1940, Page 11

FALLING FLOWERS

FROM the high pavilions the guests have all gone ; In the small gardens dishevelled blossoms drop to the ground Scattered unevenly they lie across the crooked paths, Far in the distance they dance in the setting sun.

They raise sad thoughts, but I dare not brush them away.

I strain my eyes after them, but they are determined to go.

My heart (like theirs) yearns for the spring (which is about to die) And I am left with a garment moistened with tears.

LI SRANG-YIN.

Translated by Soame Jenyns.