Su Shi Su Tung-P'o (1037—1101)

Like an old friend,     last year's moon     floats up     east of the city. Haggard, depressed,     the same man I was last year, I lie by the broken window. But the moon comes looking for me; her lovely beams slip into the room. How did the moon know I was sick? —She must have seen     that the tower of songs         was empty ...