Long divided by river and sea,
For years we two have failed to meet—
And suddenly to find you seems like a dream. . . .
With a catch in the throat, we ask how old we are.
. . . Our single lamp shines, through cold and wet,
On a bamboo-thicket sheathed in rain;
But forgetting the sadness that will come with tomorrow,
Let us share the comfort of this farewell wine.