Once-home In Autumn

Ruined steps before the old home, the years have slipped away,
The splendor has faded—all a dream of Nanke.
The swallows have gone from the eaves; the old beam stands bare,
By the pond, flowers run wild; the water ripples on.
Autumn winds fill the courtyard, making the old trees sing;
A cold half-moon casts the shadow of a tattered cloak.
Wishing to trace cherished dreams through vestiges of the past,
I stand alone in the desolate garden, singing old songs.