A pity it is evening, yet
I do love the water of this spring
seeing how clear it is, how clean;
rays of sunset gleam on it,
lighting up its ripples, making it
one with those who travel
the roads; I turn and face
the moon; sing it a song, then
listen to the sound of the wind
amongst the pines.
Illustration by Yamamoto Shunkyo, Spring of Mountain, 1933
Return to the Li Bai library , or . . . Read the next poem; The Exile's Letter