A Verse By Liao Kang
(Ode to the Moon After Awaking from a Dream)
A silver plate hangs in skies of mid-autumn night,
As if the lofty ideal of yore fore’er bright.
She cleanses the whole world with her clear ray,
Yet mickle holes are all o’er her body in sight.
Alas, the harshest sun burns her during the day,
Alack, the icy cold detains her in freezing plight,
Behold, the atmosphere has ne'er protected her,
And meteors at any time hump her with spite.
Tr. Xiao Cao (Wangyu)