Liu Ch‘ang: Autumn Thoughts

Moonlight! the floating mists are gone, a wind unveils the deep clear night. Star rivals star, and the silver river draws to her breast the dreamy light. Gaunt old trees cast shadows on the plain; Little birds hushed by fear are stirring, singing again, And my heart is a tumult of song And a torrent of wild wings shaking free. Home, home, home—I hear the long Shrill of the far cicada calling me.