— Li Qi In the eighth moon the weed cold grows, The autumn waves surge with white crest. The mast shivers as north wind blows; Why should my guest go to the west? The rain no longer drizzles on hilltop; Out of the door rises the evening tide. At night along the beach my…
— Li Bai The cool breeze blows on silent night in Town of Stone, To view the south I mount the high tower alone. White clouds and city walls mirrored on ripples swoon; Dewdrops look like pearls dripping from the autumn moon. Crooning long, I won’t go back; drowned in moon rays; How few…