quiet night thought

there's a trapezoid of light on the ground that looks like frost until i snap on the overhead light and blow it away. i know the shapes the sun makes here in the morning; to see the moon, i have to bend over, like a stooped elder, peering out through the long window past the long eaves into the long branches to greet the moon.

the roof shines white in the night. it's so warm out that i biked home in short sleeves, but i still remember the first poem i was taught to recite:

床前明月光
疑是地上霜
举头望明月
低头思故乡

---李白

(tr, mine:)

---li bai

28 February 2018 22:59