Evening falls on palace walls shaded by flowering trees, with cry of birdsflying past on their way to roost.
The stars quiver as they look down on themyriad doors of the palace, and the moon's light increases as she moves intothe ninefold sky.
Unable to sleep,
I seem to hear the sound of the bronze-claddoors opening for the audience, or imagine the sound of bridle-bells bourneupon the wind.
Having a sealed memorial to submit at tomorrow's levee,
I makefrequent inquiries about the progress of the night. Tu Fu (tr.
Hawkes)
