But already the bright hills hold half of the sun between their lips,
The silver-white arrow-tablet above the gold-coloured brass jar of the water-clock marks the dripping of much water,
And, rising, one can see the Autumn moon sliding beneath the ripples of the river,
While slowly the sun mounts in the East—
What hope for the revels now?
POEM SENT TO THE OFFICIAL WANG OF HAN YANG
BY LI T'AI-PO
The Autumn moon was white upon the Southern Lake.