For the August full moon, here's the seventh poem in Li He's lunar cycle. The beauty of this poem is you begin to feel the first chill of summer's passing.
The
chill stars amid
The
bank of clouds
Dewdrops
gather in
The
center of the bowl
A
perfect blossom birthed
At
the tip of the branch
The
garden begins to wear
Its
mourning garments
The
night sky shimmers
Like
bricks of jade
The
lotus in the pond possesses
The
green luster of money
In
a sleeveless blouse
Too
weary to dance
She
sits and shivers
On
the woven grass mat
With
daylight a wind will rise
To
brush away the Great Dipper
From
brightness to disorder
Leaving only the empty garden
Leaving only the empty garden
七月
李贺
星依云渚冷
露滴盘中圆
好花生木末
衰蕙愁空园
夜天如玉砌
池叶极青钱
仅厌舞衫薄
稍知花簟寒
晓风何拂拂
北斗光阑干
