Moon, I’ve lost my shadow.
Three friends are here, ready to drink
and dance, as Zhongba temple bells toll.
My pilgrimage took me past a village
whose only crop is thistles; at the waterfall,
imperial cannon burst around me.
In the morning, monkeys howled,
Autumn River sparkled and glimmered;
Tianmu Mountain wore a white shawl.
My song followed behind,
full of questions; morning light
bound us together on the mountain trail.
Kalpas are clear in mind; if a million years
begin and end in an instant, like a dream,
we three have been friends beyond counting.
After drinking in Green Moss Bower,
beguiled, I embraced your reflection;
but didn’t drown, stars streamed through.
