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. 辞乡北渡 — 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 the long farewell of the roadside pavilion. The wild geese fly south; the traveler flies north. Ten years in a strange land, 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 delayed. One night the west wind startles the guest from sleep; the dream chases the wild goose across the sea. Waking, the pillow is cold as water; a lamp the size of a bean shines 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。
Half a year lingering as a passerby. Standing on the long bridge, watching the current go by.
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. The old pines and bamboo still wait; moss and flowers on the old path welcome me. While others chase the warmth of the east wind, I sweep the empty courtyard. One shoulder carries luggage, one shoulder carries poems; I return 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。
The useless tree is spared by heaven, yet its shade fills the courtyard. There is sound beyond the strings — you only hear it when you begin to listen. The wooden magpie has not risen in three years; the hidden dragon, unused, nourishes its silent 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.