Ts'En-Ts'An - A.D. 750
NIGHT is at hand; the night winds fret afar,
The north winds moan.
The waterfowl are gone
To cover o'er the sand dunes; dawn alone
Shall call them from the sedges. Some bright star
Mirrors her charms upon the silver shoal;
And I have ta'en the Lute, my only friend;
The vibrant chords beneath my fingers blend;
They sob awhile, then as they slip control,
Immortal memories awake, and the dead years
Through deathless voices answer to my strings,
Till from the brink of time's untarnished springs
The melting night recalls me with her tears.