A blanket of stars will cover you whether you are a rich man or a poor man. Sometimes the rich are poorer than most, and the poor can often be rich with treasures. The sun shines on all, who are we to judge?
It's cold this night in autumn's third month,
Peacefully within, a lone old man.
He lies down late, the lamp already gone out,
And beautifully sleeps amid the sound of rain.
The ash inside the vessel still warm from the fire,
Its fragrance increases the warmth of quilt and covers.
When dawn comes, clear and cold, he does not rise,
The red frosted leaves cover the steps.
Sleeping on a Night of Autumn Rain