by Tu Fu
Never eating or drinking, the lone goose
Flies- thinking of its flock, calling out.
Who pities a flake of shadow lost beyond
Ten-thousand clouds? It stares far-off,
As if glimpses of them remained. Sorrows
Mount- it almost hears them again. . . .
Wild crows, not a thread of thought anywhere,
Squawk and shriek, fighting each other off.
