Oh unknown traveler, you come alone.
At the end of night when the jasmine flower fell.
Seeing my door closed, you stood by the wayside.
My eyes half closed in sleep, some things I could see, and some things I could not.
Then you went away at dawn, wet with the mist at the end of night, floating in the infinite void.
The jasmine creeper at my door still carries the message of your arrival.
Removing its drops of dew, it remains awake, ever waiting for you.
If at that time, I had opened my door, and whispered a word in your ear that autumn midnight,
I would have floated aloft, and mingled myself in your melody.