a poem written by Bruce Lee.
I sit through the long night
In the high tower,
And listen to the autumn rain
Outside my window.
There is no sound of human life,
Save now and then
A belated traveler hastening by.
Through the dark heaven,
A wild goose wings his lonely flight.
In the chill gloom
A cricket calls
The water drips mournfully
From the t’ung trees;
And the blossoms
Flutter sadly
To the rain-soaked earth.
Sadness broods
Over the world.
I fear to walk in my garden,
Lest I see
A pair of butterflies
Disporting in the sun
Among the flowers.
Harry Febrian 