To Try to Find
To try to find my heart, it's hard enough;
How could I hold it in tranquility?
Illness impedes poetry, and all I feel is useless;
Sorrow comes from birth, not without cause.
I rise to watch, in the moonlight, frost on ten thousand roof tiles;
I lie down hearing, in the wind, a thousand spears of bamboo.
North of Ts'ang-lang Pavilion, a huge date tree (1)—
Ceaseless, the cawing of crows in the evening cold.
(1) Chun-ch'ien shu, Diospyros Lotus, is a variety of date tree, the fruits of which are sometimes used to make varnish.