Thursday, 17 September 2015
Setting Out Early
I hang my whip and give the horse his head.
For several li we hear no cockcrow.
Into the woods, my dreams still linger
and I start from time to time at the flying leaves.
It's frosty, and a lone crane wheels.
The moon still tarries above the distant hills.
My servant speaks no further word of danger;
it is a peaceful time, a peaceful road again.