Stars lean on the vast wild plain.
Moon bobs in the Great River’s spate.
Letters have brought no fame.
Office? Too old to obtain.
Drifting, what am I like?
A gull between earth and sky.
In the Quiet Night by Li Bai
The floor before my bed is right:
Moonlight – like hoarfrost – in my room.
I lift my head and watch the moon.
I drop my head and think of home.