Or wise men, or nobles,

Or jade.

First Chinese. Drink from wise men? From jade? Is there no spring?

[Turning to the negro, who has taken a jug from one of the baskets.]

Fill it and return.

[The negro removes a large candle from one of the baskets and hands it to the First Chinese; then takes the jug and the lantern and enters the trees to the left. The First Chinese lights the candle and places it on the ground near the water bottle.]

Third Chinese. There is a seclusion of porcelain That humanity never invades.

First Chinese. [With sarcasm.] Porcelain!

Third Chinese. It is like the seclusion of sunrise,

Before it shines on any house.

Second Chinese. This candle is the sun;

This bottle is earth:

It is an illustration

Used by generations of hermits.

The point of difference from reality

Is this:

That, in this illustration,

The earth remains of one color

It remains red,

It remains what it is.

Three Travelers Watch a Sunrise

But when the sun shines on the earth,
In reality

It does not shine on a thing that remains
What it was yesterday.

The sun rises

On whatever the earth happens to be.

Third Chinese. And there are indeterminate moments

Before it rises,

Well, there are moments

When the candle, sputtering up,

Finds itself in seclusion, [He raises the candle in the air.]
And shines, perhaps, for the beauty of shining.

That is the seclusion of sunrise

Before it shines on any house. [Replacing the candle.]
First Chinese. [Wagging his head.] As abstract as
porcelain.

Second Chinese. Such seclusion knows beauty
As the court knew it.

The court woke

In its windless pavilions,

And gazed on chosen mornings,

As it gazed

On chosen porcelain.

What the court saw was always of the same color,
And well shaped,

And seen in a clear light. [He points to the candle.]
It never woke to see,

And never knew,

The flawed jars,

The weak colors,

The contorted glass.

It never knew

The poor lights. [He opens his book significantly.]

When the court knew beauty only,

And in seclusion,

It had neither love nor wisdom.

These came through poverty

And wretchedness,

Through suffering and pity. [He pauses.]

It is the invasion of humanity

That counts.

[The limb of the tree creaks. The First Chinese turns, for a moment, in the direction of the sound.]

First Chinese. [Thoughtfully.] The light of the most tranquil candle

Would shudder on a bloody salver.

Second Chinese. [With a gesture of disregard.] It is the invasion

That counts.

If it be supposed that we are three figures

Painted on porcelain

Three Travelers Watch a Sunrise

As we sit here,

That we are painted on this very bottle,
The hermit of the place,

Holding this candle to us,

Would wonder;

But if it be supposed

That we are painted as warriors,

The candle would tremble in his hands;
Or if it be supposed, for example,

That we are painted as three dead men,
He could not see the steadiest light,
For sorrow.

It would be true

If an emperor himself

Held the candle.

He would forget the porcelain

For the figures painted on it.

Third Chinese. [Shrugging his shoulders.] Let the candle

shine for the beauty of shining.

I dislike the invasion

And long for the windless pavilions.

And yet it may be true

That nothing is beautiful

Except with reference to ourselves,

Nor ugly,

Nor high, [Pointing to the sky.]

Nor low. [Pointing to the candle.]
No: not even sunrise.

Can you play of this [Mockingly to First Chinese.]
For us? [He stands up.]

First Chinese. [Hesitatingly.] I have a song
Called Mistress and Maid.

It is of no interest to hermits

Or emperors,

Yet it has a bearing;

For if we affect sunrise,

We affect all things.

Third Chinese. It is a pity it is of women. Sing it.

[He takes an instrument from one of the baskets and hands it to the First Chinese, who sings the following song, accompanying himself, somewhat tunelessly, on the instrument. The Third Chinese takes various things out of the basket for tea. He arranges fruit. The First Chinese watches him while he plays. The Second Chinese gazes at the ground. The sky shows the first signs of morning.]

First Chinese. The mistress says, in a harsh voice, "He will be thinking in strange countries

Of the white stones near my door,

And I-I am tired of him."

She says sharply, to her maid,

"Sing to yourself no more."

Then the maid says, to herself,

"He will be thinking in strange countries
Of the white stones near her door;