On this cold night in the third autumn month,
A solitary old man, tranquil and leisurely.
Laying down late after the lamp’s burnt out,
Pleasantly he sleeps with the sound of rain.
As ash lay resting in the stove still warm from the fire,
Its fragrance increases the warmth of quilt and covers.
At dawn, clear but cold, he stirs not –
Frosted leaves at their crimson fullness.
- Bai juyi (772-846)
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