The moon hangs mid-heaven, the night air cold;
Its clear radiance bright, its shadow round.
Poets in high spirits often gaze upon it;
The wanderer, deepened in sorrow, cannot bear to look.
Beside the emerald tower hangs a jade mirror;
Outside the pearl curtain, an ice platter is suspended.
On such a fine night, why burn silver candles?
Its brilliant splendor illuminates the painted railings.
Annotation
In Chapter 48, Xiangling studies poetry under Daiyu's tutelage. This is her first moon poem. Daiyu criticized it as 'inelegant in diction'—though metrically correct, it was too plain and straightforward, and she told Xiangling to try again.
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