The Stones Where the Haft Rotted

Less than a day in paradise,
And a thousand years have passed among men.
While the pieces are still being laid on the board
All things have changed to emptiness
The woodman takes the road home,
The haft of his axe has rotted in the wind:
No thing is what it was but the stone bridge
Such panning a rainbow cinnabar-red.
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Author of original: 
Meng Chiao
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