Floats where clouds are not;
Wind rises,
Strikes the purity of night,
Stars compete
In trembling flickers,
The Milky Way is empty,
Clear, and bright.
Old trees’ sparse shadows
Intersperse.
Scared birds cut off their Noises lingering.
This autumn I am rapt
In what’s already awry,
While crickets campaign
Again at night.
- Liu Ch’ang
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