Poetic Divination

“Tz’u No. 18” by Li Ch’ing Chao

Thin mist, dense clouds, a grief-stricken day;

auspicious incense burns in the gold animal.

Once again, it is the joyous mid-autumn festival,

but a midnight chill

touches my jade pillow and silk bed-screen.

I drink wine by the eastern fence in the yellow dusk.

Now a dark fragrance fills

my sleeves and makes me spin.

The bamboo blinds sway in the west wind.

And I am even thinner than a yellow flower.