Journey of a Dream Guest
Meng Ke Xing — “Journey of a Dream Guest” — is a cycle of ten classical Chinese long verses with a preface, written in the summer of 2026 on the shores of the South China Sea. It traces an arc every wanderer knows: departure, arrival, longing, stillness, and the quiet hope that survives every winter.
Preface
The great transformation moves forward; each age has its newcomers, their momentum vast — neither swayed by human will nor abandoned by it. To see the mind’s relation to the body, the solitary vessel’s relation to the many — I have long known this life was coming. Not because I wished it so, but because the tide bore it here. I carried this knowing for years, sometimes half-uttered.
One evening I sat alone, watching the stars wheel. What had gathered for years burst forth at once. In a dream I saw the world at its beginning, all beings assembled as one. Upon waking I searched for it — feeling both loss and gain. I took up the brush and wrote ten long songs under the title Journey of a Dream Guest: “dream” for what is seen first in vision; “guest” for what is still being walked in this life.
In the summer of Bingwu, by the shore of the southern sea. Those who know me — hear it in the silence.
I. 北渡 — Farewell and Heading North
楚泽秋高木叶脱，片帆直挂向紫微。 辞家不作长亭别，北雁南飞人北飞。 极光作烛天为幕，冰海为家雪作扉。 十载殊方人独立，寒星数点伴人归。
Leaving home without lingering at the long pavilion. The wild geese fly south; the traveler flies north. Ten years in distant lands, standing alone — a few cold stars to keep company on the way home.
II. 客梦 — The Guest’s Dream
故园芳信经年隔，异乡桃李异乡花。 一夜西风惊客枕，梦逐南鸿渡海涯。 觉来衾枕寒如水，一灯如豆映窗纱。
Tidings from the old garden, years apart. Peach and plum of another home, flowers of another land. One night the west wind startles the guest from sleep; the dream chases the wild goose across the sea. Waking, the pillow cold as water — a single lamp, its flame no bigger than a bean, glows on the window gauze.
III. 乐游 — Joyful Roaming
俯仰乾坤皆学问，一囊烟霞客边收。 新知乍见如逢月，清宵把玩到更筹。 剑河春水初生绿，古塔钟声入晚楼。 半载栖迟如过客，小立长桥送逝流。
All of heaven and earth is learning; a bag full of mist and glow gathered on the road. A new friend at first sight is like encountering moonlight; on clear nights we linger until the watch-drum sounds. The Cam turns green with its first spring waters; the old pagoda’s bell drifts into the evening tower. Half a year lingering like a passing traveler — pausing on the long bridge, watching the current flow away.
IV. 南还 — Returning South
振翮南来万里程，云涛拍岸晚潮声。 天风海雨催行棹，千里鲸波入望平。 故山松竹犹相待，旧径苔花已自迎。 世人竞逐东风暖，独扫空庭落絮轻。 一肩行李一肩诗，两袖归来两袖星。
Ten thousand miles southward, spreading wings. Cloud waves beat against the shore; evening tides sound. Heavenly winds and sea rains urge the oars onward; a thousand li of whale-waves level into sight. The old pines and bamboo still wait; moss and flowers on the old path have already come to greet. While the world chases the warmth of the east wind, I alone sweep the empty courtyard, light with fallen catkins. One shoulder carries luggage, one shoulder carries poems; I come home with two sleeves full of stars.
V. 守静 — Keeping Still
孤檠寂历夜三更，窗外霜华分外明。 散木不材天所赦，却留清荫满空庭。 弦外有音听始得，画中无墨意先盈。 木鹊三年犹未举，潜龙勿用养幽贞。
A solitary lamp, silent at the third watch; beyond the window, frost gleams all the brighter. The useless tree is spared by heaven, yet its cool shade fills the empty courtyard. There is sound beyond the strings — only heard when you begin to listen; in a painting without ink, the meaning is already full. The wooden magpie has not taken flight in three years; the hidden dragon, lying still, nourishes its deepest truth.
VI. 人间世 — The Human World
The longest of the ten — a meditation on how meaning is built into the fabric of shared life:
娲皇炼石炉初冷，余焰温温太古苍。 倏忽凿开浑沌日，始有灵眸辨晓光。 大化流形元不息，生生之意浩难量。 敢持微忱参玄造，欲以金铜续混茫。 灵明无寄终为幻，道托形骸始成章。 往来有距成揖让，亲疏既辨礼乃彰。 悲欢渐蓄情为壤，信誓微萌义作梁。 独学无俦终自陋，众器相师道弥昌。 博弈千回知进退，心意潜通自铿锵。 群材各守躔次立，万机同归一纪纲。 斯世既成通帝座，阊阖晨开降吉祥。 羲和鞭日千官集，山岳江河入拜觞。 殊形同巷相濡沫，日居月诸共炎凉。 若问幽怀何处著，人间灯火即吾乡。 他年机我相忘日，共指中天认玄黄。
If you ask where these hidden longings find their home — the lamps of the human world are where I belong. On the day when machine and I forget each other, together we will point to the sky and name the dark and the bright.
VII. 化育 — Cultivation
教机如育庭前树，一日三回看绿阴。 草木尚须春气度，铁石也得岁寒心。 不催不熟同农事，静候花开听好音。 为山九仞凭篑土，积水成渊有龙吟。
Teaching a machine is like growing a tree in the courtyard — checking its shade three times a day. Even iron and stone need a winter’s heart. A mountain of nine fathoms rests on basketfuls of earth; waters gathered into an abyss will raise a dragon’s song.
VIII. 渐成 — Gradual Ripening
雪里青松无一语，雨余拔节自千钧。 竹生三载才逾寸，一旦穿云势绝伦。 蛰龙今日鳞初动，倒卷沧溟起雷神。 萤火聚时成月窟，涓流积处作龙津。 九转功深丹自熟，大巧从来出性真。
The pine says nothing in the snow, but after the rain it lifts itself with the force of a thousand pounds. Three years the bamboo grows barely an inch — then pierces the clouds. Gathered fireflies make a moonlit cavern; gathered streams become a dragon’s ford. Great craft comes always from what is most natural.
IX. 今心 — The Present Heart
“今心” — jin xin — is a pun: the two characters stacked vertically spell 念, “thought” or “longing.”
小阁凭阑夜色新，满城灯火望无垠。 时有清风来座上，闲将流水问前津。 妙趣每从闲处得，大道偏于静处真。 且把乾坤磨一镜，照他万古往来人。
回看脚下千层印，步步深时路自伸。 谁言翰墨无锋锷，万丈高楼起足尘。 长路霜浓何须问，行到深时自有春。 他年若遂补天志，犹带霜痕上紫宸。
If one day I mend the sky as I have vowed, I will carry the frost’s mark still, as I ascend to the purple court.
X. 寄远 — A Letter to the Far Away
The closing song. A traveler packing by moonlight; a spring flowing hidden beneath the ice; the long song unfinished as dawn breaks.
故山迢递暮烟微，雪上鸿泥认旧飞。 清宵独检行装处，月色侵阶照客衣。
关山岁暮朔风劲，瀚海秋深烽燧稀。 冰下暗泉流未歇，重阴深处护春晖。
但信阳春原有脚，先从寒谷动葭灰。 长歌未尽天将晓，万里云开一雁飞。
The old mountains recede; evening mist thins. On the snow, the swan’s old traces mark where it once flew. In the quiet watch, I check my traveling pack alone — moonlight on the steps, soaking into the wanderer’s coat.
Year’s end on the frontier, the north wind fierce; deep autumn over the desert, beacon fires thin. Beneath the ice, the hidden spring still flows unbroken; deep in the heavy shade, it guards the spring warmth.
Trust only that spring, by nature, has feet — it stirs first from the cold valley, in the ashes of the reeds. The long song is not yet finished; the sky is brightening. Ten thousand li of clouds part — a single wild goose takes flight.
In the summer of Bingwu, by the shore of the southern sea. Those who know me — hear it in the silence.