Good Old Moon

When I was a boy I called the moon a

white plate of jade, sometimes it looked

like a great mirror hanging in the sky,

first came the two legs of the fairy

and the cassia tree, but for whom the rabbit

kept on pounding medical herbs, I

just could not guess. Now the moon is being

swallowed by the toad and the light

flickers out leaving darkness all around;

I hear that when nine of the burning suns out

of the ten were ordered to be shot down by

the Emperor Yao, all has since been quiet

and peaceful both for heaven and man,

but this eating up of the moon is for me

a truly ugly scene filling me with forebodings

wondering what will come out of it.