A crow crying at night
( Li yu--Tang)
The muse, while a shadow shifting up the west castle, hung over
By the moon-waned; the autumn left locked in drear courtyard,
Beneath lonesome Chinese-parasols there’s only the sorrow-soul.
Which was the parted- desolation in deepest-grieved heart,
Just yet neither could be cut off nor be re-arranged, and
Leaving the feeling descending down, silence left.