Beside the bed, books piled to the ceiling;
in front of the steps, trees that brush the clouds:
the General has no taste for military matters;
his young sons all are skilled in literature.
Sobering up from wine, we let in the gentle breeze,
listen to poems, pass the quiet night.
Thin summer cloaks are draped on the vines
where cool moonlight, white, shimmers over them.(1)

(1) Guests have shed their thin cloaks of kudzu fiber and hung
them on the vines in the garden.

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