Swiftly riding past the willows,
My traveling cloak heavy and wet with dew.
Lone shadow of a roosting egret astir
As it drowsily eyes the sandbank —
Fish and shrimp haunting its dreams.

Bright moon, a sprinkling of stars
Bathe the stream in a blaze of light.
Graceful the shadow of a young washer of silks:
A bashful smile to passersby,
And she is off to
Where her baby is crying at the door.