An icy scar in the afterglow sends off the setting sun;
A hook so tiny as to startle fishes from their dreams,
Passionate souls would still say it’s perfect and round;
Just the barest hint of a woman’s brow
And suddenly it’s the Goddess of the Moon!

Enveloping the steps, the night air as thin as mist;
Flowers’ shadows lightly traced on the curtain.
I lean against the railing, no need to sleep late.
Just gazing up into the yellow dusk–
One glimpse of her overwhelms me with longing.

translated by Irving Lo

But what avails the common folk?
Under a dark moon, fireflies are drifting aimlessly;
The west wind sobs
Amidst ghost fires here and there.
But it hurts even more as I look toward the south:
Across the river, innumerable green-peaked hills!

translated by Irving Lo