Translated from the Chinese by Liang Yujing and Julian Farmer

Clear, the autumn wind,
autumn moon, bright.
Fallen leaves gather and scatter;
jackdaws roost and then are startled.
When shall we meet and stay close?
Love is hard, tonight, this moment.

Entering the gate of yearning,
I came to know its bitterness.
Yearning, if long, is a long memory—
even when short, it’s still without end.

This entanglement in the heart—
if we’d known that beforehand,
we might as well have never met.