cháng diàn yíng fēng zǎo,
kōng chéng dàn yuè huá。
xīng hé qiū yī yàn,
zhēn chǔ yè qiān jiā。
jié hòu kàn yìng wǎn,
xīn qī wò yì shē。
xiàng lái yín xiù jù,
bù jué yǐ míng yā。
While a cold wind is creeping under my mat,
And the city's naked wall grows pale with the autumn moon,
I see a lone wild-goose crossing the River of Stars,
And I hear, on stone in the night, thousands of washing mallets....
But, instead of wishing the season, as it goes,
To bear me also far away,
I have found your poem so beautiful
That I forget the homing birds.