Ancient Song

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?