or,inoneofhisbestknos,drink

regret.

onluded

hisnotebook:

not,astheyoughtto,reerhoudsharethepoetsfeelingofpoignant

taphors,like”idleflohesadhechafingsparroc.the

fullblossotandingidlyinfront,apparentlyingitsfragrantgloryoed

ofbeing”bored”todeath,.thesateique,orrather

taphorsintheelvesarenothing:thepoetrynsistsispreadinghis

sharehisople,he

etiohesotiontoliveand

valley.istillreerthelasttyfriechedin

hereetyistheuntrypalace,etylikeadreainlonelinessandquietthered

ihedecayoftheblae

isachieved,then,isapoeticfeelingforthepeachtree,supposedtobecapable

houtoingintothedetailsoftheirdisurse:

aainonfolloeho

nonpeopleshos梬ithouttheirknowing.

aotions,notbydirectpersonificationbutbying

lateattipassedtheverdanthills,

thelastandstiortantpointistheiofnaturalobje

threelelonggayandgreenoas”heartless”becausetheydid

noheredsparroing,

thefarrupletothefieldshavegone,

anddeadboredaretheflosideitsdoors.

andtheshewangandhsiehhalls,

ierialflo.soberidsarechatting.

e.

iedpalace,

hillside,hjustasiage,halldoorsclosedandasolitarypeachtreein

attitude,isextrelyninallgoodesepoetry.so,forinstance,didlipo

andontheblackgoheevningsunisglowing,

beginoneofhisbestpoe:

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