The bright, thin, new moon appears,
Tipped askew in the heavens.
It no sooner shines over
The ruined fortress than the
Evening clouds overwhelm it.
The Milky Way shines unchanging
Over the freezing mountains
Of the border. White frost covers
The garden. The Chrysanthemums
Clot and freeze in the night.
From One Hundred Poems From the Chinese by Kenneth Rexroth