A poem by Li He (791-817)

Song of the Sorceress

The moon, it blazes.
 
Horses stampede 
 across the clouds, 
 driven by whirlwinds. 
She dances through 
 the autumn dust, 
 her pale breasts shine. 
Seed pods burst 
 in the forest, but 
 dark hyenas cry 
 tears of blood. 

Foxes shiver and die. 

Dragons are driven 
 forth by rain-makers 
 into deep pools. 

In its hundredth year 
 an owl suddenly 
 changes into a spirit 
 and hoots with laughter, 
 as green flames 
 leap from its nest. 

Log in or registerto write something here or to contact authors.