While I watch the moon goes down,
Shimmering,
A black bird pecks through the frost
With squawking;

Maple trees cast shadow down
In paleness,
From a fishers torch is tossed
In darkness;

Then from Suzhou or just beyond,
I can hear,
the temple on cold mountain,
not so near;

The midnight bell will toll on,
Ring for me,
Here in my boat I hear sound,
I can’t see.