Xin Qiji

Startled by magpies leaving the branch in moonlight,

I hear cicadas shrill in the breeze at midnight.

The ricefields’sweet smell promises a bumper year;

Listen, how frogs' croaks please the ear!

Beyond the clouds seven or eight stars twinkle;

Before the hills two or three raindrops sprinkle.

There is an inn beside the village temple. Look!

The winding path leads to the hut beside the brook.