otoño

It has turned cold.

The mountains grow more vast and more blue.

The Autumn waterfalls are louder.

I take my cane and go out to the gate for a walk.

I can hear the last crickets

Singing in the chilly evening.

I am happy. The rays of the setting sun

Shine through the evening smoke

That hover over the village.

I throw back my head,

Drunk with beauty,

And sing the "Willow song"

At the top of my lungs.

Wang Wei (Trad. de Kenneth Rexroth)