Crow Night Sung
Li Hou Zhu (937-978?)
No words my own, nothing to say, climbing alone the west.
Moon bent like a hook.
Loneliness beneath Wu-Tong trees.
All of fall—cold and locked in court chambers…
Cannot cut it cleanly off,
or even order it without the mess:
This is the sorrow of leaving.
Another taste of my heart.
translated by Ken Chen
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