林语堂先生译作

How rare the moon, so round and clear!

With cup in hand, I ask of the blue sky,

"I do not know in the celestial¹ sphere

What name this festive² night goes by?"

I want to fly home, riding the air,

But fear the etherealcold up there,

The jade³ and crystal mansions⁴ are so high!

Dancing to my shadow,

I feel no longer the mortal tie.

She rounds the vermilion tower,

Stoops to silk-pad doors,

Shines on those who sleepless⁵ lie.

Why does she, bearing us no grudge⁶,

Shine upon our parting, reunion deny?

But rare is perfect happiness--

The moon does wax, the moon does wane⁷,

And so men meet and say goodbye.

I only pray our life be long,

And our souls together heavenward fly!