The air hangs heavy with incense smell,
The mist has turned to fog and
the world melts away.

The seasons have drunk up all my tears,
Though others do not see
I am frail – and not what they think.

The Monkey's Moon is rising,
Another year is passing,
And this day is endless -
But I smile when they ask me
Some half heard question.

They believe I am a rock
But I am the petals of a flower.