Zhuang Zhou's Dream

Zhuang Zhou dreamt he was a butterfly, enjoying the fine spring breeze
Waking he wondered “Is that butterfly now dreaming he is me?”
Those who dream of pleasure, in the morning they may weep
In this dream we hold tight to what’s wrong and what’s right
How can we ever agree?

Zhuang Zhou dreamt he was a butterfly, enjoying the fine spring breeze
Waking he wondered “Is that butterfly now dreaming he is me?”
“I would say you’re dreaming; myself, I’m fast asleep”
These words seem strange till we meet with a sage
Who can lead us to awakening

Zhuang Zhou dreamt he was a butterfly, enjoying the fine spring breeze
Waking he wondered “Is that butterfly now dreaming he is me?”
Once awakened we must see this life like a bubble or a shadow or a dream
While the invisible workings of heaven bring all conflicts into harmony

Zhuang Zhou dreamt he was a butterfly, enjoying the fine spring breeze
Waking he wondered “Is that butterfly now dreaming he is me?”
Once awakened we must see this life like a bubble or a shadow or a dream
While the invisible workings of heaven bring all conflicts into harmony