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.