468. Drinking Song ‘Both our [b]old scholar-companions are admiring the rolled-out sunset, Neglecting the long, wise scroll that lies wide-open before them. Now is our chance, my golden goddess – oh, ignore them! Just ignore them! High time to do something unworthy among all this ancient wisdom!’

469. Drinking Song ‘Oh, grant us a glimpse of thy ton gue (dear!) while the wild geese fly on by! For everyone else will be watching – (cretins!) – the wild geese highing by. But the sky is only the sky. The trees are only the trees. And the earth is a mere piece of your necklace, floating free in the breeze.’

470. That ridiculously drunk gentleman over there, face-down in the mud, Is in fact directly descended from a very great figure indeed. A leading general, was it? Or perhaps a magnificent poet? – But, no. I forget precisely what sort of a gross disappointment he is.

471. A Deep Drinking Song ‘Clearing the garden of debris after the previous evening’s civilised par t y, The servants find a dead body. Evidently not someone important. Indeed, absolutely no-one seems to know whose body it is. But then – do we know who anyone is, really? Cheers!’

472. The dead-looking body lies in the charming city garden. That noise must be the clamour of ordinary insects. That scent is largely the scent of ordinary flowers. The gate swings slowly open – very slowly – then swings back shut.

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