Chance Meeting
Liang Zongdai

How can I forget that evening:
The sun setting on the mountains,
the air rippling with a gentle breeze.
The dark bamboo grove glimmered in the mist,
Yellow cicada fragrance steeped
The dreamy, silent eventide.
As I strolled alone down the footpath,
She wandered slowly over.
In the dappled bamboo shade
We knew each other.
She lowered her head with a shy smile and passed me by,
Turned again and again to look back—and was gone.
In that moment—
And until today—
My heart trembled– a dreamlike,
Silent, shy
smiling tremor.