XXXIV

NIGHT THOUGHTS WHILE TRAVELLING

A light breeze rustles the reeds

Along the river banks. The

Mast of my lonely boat soars

Into the night. Stars blossom

Over the vast desert of

Waters. Moonlight flows on the

Surging river. My poems have

Made me famous but I grow

Old, ill and tired, blown hither

And yon; I am like a gull

Lost between heaven and earth.

TU FU