Autumn’s moon cries, her ice tear of Jade,
of harvest, opens this ringed nocturnal door
to worlds lost within you, on night’s forest floor,
animal eyes reflecting fire, reflecting flood.
Your fragrant face, grace of a distant moon
in black osmanthus scented skies, a bloom
of lunar love, so slender, so luminescent,
a crack in the dark, kept open just this instant
of night, moon-faced, yes, rounded and clear
whose webs of light guide me here, so confused,
to beams of love which shine, which disappear
in the ripening darkness: I lose, I’m renewed.
Entwined alone, our dances of difficult dreams
are finger~threads of tender moon~frost gleams.
(李白 ~ Li Bai 静夜思 ~ Thoughts on a Tranquil Night
‘ 疑是地上霜。Can it be hoar-frost on the ground?’)
