Tonight I'm sure of a silver dream,
Like a white dove stretching wing in a shower,
Like fallen lilies shining in a pool,
Like autumn sounds trickling
From glazed dryandra leaves to frosty tiles.
But, Meimei, do you have there such
Silver ripples of moonlight as these?
I fear they must be crystals of ice.
If my dream were a boat to sail downwind,
Could it break into icebound night?