IN SUMMER AT THE SOUTH PAVILION THINKING OF XING
The mountain-light suddenly fails in the west，
In the east from the lake the slow moon rises.
I loosen my hair to enjoy the evening coolness
And open my window and lie down in peace.
The wind brings me odours of lotuses，
And bamboo-leaves drip with a music of dew……
I would take up my lute and I would play，
But， alas， who here would understand？
And so I think of you， old friend，
O troubler of my midnight dreams ！