Flying through the thin curtains they land on my clothes, Startling the chill among my books and instruments. Before the eaves, they shoot like stars. A growing horde, they circle the well and the railing, Brightening the occasional flower. White haired, I look on with longing, Still not home after so many years.
「巫山秋夜螢火飛，簾疏巧入坐人衣，忍驚屋裡琴書冷，復亂簷前星宿飛；卻繞井欄添個個，偶經花蕊弄輝輝，滄江白髮愁看汝，來歲如今歸未歸。」