An Autumn Evening, Harmonizing Chêng Chin’s Poem

While a cold wind is creeping under my mat,
And the city’s naked wall grows pale with the autumn moon,
I see a lone wildgoose crossing the River of Stars,
And I hear, on stone in the night, thousands of washing-mallets. . .
But, instead of wishing the season, as it goes,
To bear me also far away,
I have found your poem so beautiful
That I forget the homing birds.