Classic Poem

Drip drip, rain on paulownia leaves;
softly sighing, wind in the mallow flowers.
Sad sad the early autumn thoughts
that come to me in my dark solitude.
How much more so when I part from an old friend —
no delight then in my musings.
Don't say I didn't see you off —
in heart I went as far as the Green Gate and beyond.
With friends, it's not how many you have
but only whether they share your heart.
One who shares my heart has gone away
and I learn how empty Ch'ang-an can be.