My boat is moored by mist-veiled rivershore;
I'm grieved to see the setting sun no more.
On boundless plain clouds hang atop the tree;
In water clear the moon seems near to me.

While my little boat moves on its mooring mist, And daylight wanes, old memories begin... How wide the world was, how close the trees to heaven! And how clear in the water the nearness of the moon! | Three Hundred Poems of the Tang Dynasty, trans. ‎Witter Bynner