I gaze at this, my hometown

I gaze at this, my hometown,
as if reentering a former life.
So vague and formless, everything has changed,
yet clear, detailed the dream remains.
I've been away for forty years
and so there's no roof to shelter me.
For now I rent a cell
in an old monk's cloister;
a place to stay, dare I complain it's small?
Children cluster round to stare β€”
they think I'm a visitor from another world.
And I do feel sad and alone,
and see myself as a visitor here.
In the morning I go out, spirits bright,
but come back in the evening unbearably lonely.
A guttering lamp glimmers from the wall,
a northerly wind howls outside the window.
Author of original: 
Yβ”œβ•an Mei
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