The crescent moon hangs on tree-tips;
八月五日夜鳳凰亭納涼
In dried pool hidden water drips.
新月掛林梢,
On painted eaves I see now and then sparse stars fall,
暗水鳴枯沼。
Here and there a few dots of fireflies small.
時見疏星落畫檐,
I’m not much sick for native hill,
幾點流螢小。
But homesickness haunts me still.
歸意已無多,
I’ll write new songs for gatherers of lotus seed,
故作連環(huán)繞。
But find on boundless water mist-veiled reed.
欲寄新聲問采菱,
水闊煙波渺。