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Poetry
Hearing a Flute by Night on the Shouxiang Wall
Before Huile Peak the sand is like snow; beyond the Shouxiang wall the moon is like frost. No one knows where a reed pipe is being blown— all night the campaigning men gaze toward home.
夜上受降城闻笛
Poetry
Quiet Night Thoughts
Moonlight before my bed— I take it for frost upon the ground. I lift my head and gaze at the bright moon; I lower it, thinking of home.
静夜思
Poetry
An Autumn Evening
Silver candle, autumn light, a painted screen turned cold; a small gauze fan swats at drifting fireflies. On the steps the night air is cool as water; sitting, watching the Herdboy and Weaver Maid stars.
秋夕