In days of old,
there lived a man,
and in a fleeting dream,
he dreamed he was a butterfly,
with pale wings white and clean.
He flew around,
for days or years,
among the hills and trees,
without a single care in the world,
he was guided by the breeze,
but then,
in a flash,
under the wheel the butterfly died,
and he awoke,
and then he thought,
"am I a butterfly dreaming of a man?"
"or a man, a butterfly?"