Classic Poem

The bright sun sinks
beyond the western ridge,
The white moon rises
behind the eastern range.
Afar, afar
a myriad miles it flashes,
Immeasurably vast
its light amidst the sky
A wind comes
and enters the bedroom door,
So in the night
pillow and mat are cold.
The air seems different —
I awake to the season's change
I cannot go to sleep
and know the night's eternity,
I wish to speak
but there is no friend to talk to
Raising my cup
I challenge my lonely shadow
The days and months
fling us aside and pass;
We have high purposes
but cannot realize them
Thinking of this
I have grief and pain at heart,
And all night long
can find no quietness.