Midnight
Hsu Chih-Mo

At midnight, in a corner down the street
The shafts of lamp-light were as dim as dreams.

The trees were drowned in mist.
No wonder people lost their way.

“You’ve wronged me, cruel enemy!”
She wept: —came no reply.

The dawn wind shook the tree-tops:
The fine flushed leaves of autumn fluttered down.