Old Tunes²

    As the waves of perfume, heliotrope³, rose, Float in the garden when no wind blows, Come to us, go from us, whence no one knows；

    So the old tunes float in my mind, And go from me leaving no trace behind, Like fragrance⁴ borne on the hush⁵ of the wind.

    But in the instant the airs remain I know the laughter and the pain Of times that will not come again.

    I try to catch at many a tune¹ Like petals⁶ of light fallen from the moon, Broken and bright on a dark lagoon⁷, But they float away —— for who can hold Youth, or perfume or the moon's gold？