I climb up high and look on the four seas, Heaven and earth spreading out so far. Frost blankets all the stuff of autumn, The wind blows with the great desert's cold.
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"What place under heaven most hurts the heart? Laolao Ting, for seeing visitors off. The spring wind knows how bitter it is to part, The willow twig will never again be green."
"When the hunter sets traps only for rabbits, tigers and dragons are left uncaught."
"The birds have vanished into the sky and now the last cloud drains away. We sit together the mountain and me, until only the mountain remains."
"Before my bed, the moon is shining bright, I roll back the hanging, gaze at the moon, and long sigh in vain."
"I wake with the moon on my pillow—it’s frost, I suppose."
From the poem 'Autumn Air', commonly attributed
Date: c. 701-762 AD (original composition)
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