Updated: Jun 6, 2019
Three brooks merge into the distant bay, and off it
some buildings come into view;
The moon half in her veil spills down her silvery light,
half the bay is lit, and half the world too.
In Autumn’s deep grove, a song is heard,
a song in its local Wu dialect ,
and my heart that longs for a home , though suddenly,
remembers that it’s almost time for another full moon.
*Published in Alluvium:The Literary Shanghai Journal, 2018