Chuang-tzu dreams he’s a butterfly,
and a butterfly becomes Chuang-tzu.
All transformation this one body, boundless occurrence goes on and on:
it’s no surprise eastern seas become western streams shallow and clear,
or the melon-grower at Ch’ing Gate
once reigned as Duke of Tung-ling.
Are hopes and dreams any different?
We bustle around, looking for what?