PART 3 I AUTUMN 2213
The Path in the Twilight
The Southern hills, how mournful!
A ghostly rain sprinkles the empty grass. In Ch’ang-an, on an autumn midnight, How many men grow old before the wind? Dim, dim, the path in the twilight, Branches curl on the black oaks by the road. The trees cast upright shadows and the moon at the zenith Covers the hills with a white dawn.
Darkened torches welcome a new kinsman:
In the most secret tomb these fireflies swarm.
Li Ho, Criticisms, ninth century a.d.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN