I raise my cup under the moon, calling the fragrant vessel in the green shade. Bowing to the falling stars, making an appointment with the floating moon. — Wen Tianxiang, *Reply to Vice Commissioner Dong's Invitation to the Mid-Autumn Feast* On the Mid-Autumn night of years past, by the apricot garden near Qujiang Pond; on the Mid-Autumn night of this year, in front of the Shu Pavilion by the banks of the Qin River. Where is home to the northwest? How many times have I seen the moon rise in the southeast? The wind from last night blew and no one noticed; tonight's clear light is just like years ago. — Bai Juyi, *Watching the Moon from Ting Pavilion on the Night of the Mid-Autumn Festival* In the courtyard, white ground where crows rest, cold dew silently wets the osmanthus. Tonight the moon is bright and everyone gazes up, but who knows to whose home the autumn thoughts fall? — Wang Jian, *Watching the Moon on the Night of the Fifteenth* The bright moon is easy to lower, but people are hard to disperse; returning, I call for wine to gaze again. The moonlight before the hall is even clearer and better, while the cricket chirps in the dew and grass. Rolling up the curtain and opening the door, there is no one; by the window, only a faint sound. In the Southern Capital, no one should be ashamed of poverty; how many people can compose poetry under the moon? — Su Shi, *Mid-Autumn Moon Shared with Ziyou* The bright moon rises from the sea, and at this moment, people across the world share the same view. Lovers lament the long night, staying awake all night with longing! — Zhang Jiuling, *Thinking of a Friend under the Moon* The dew turns white tonight, and the moon is brightest in my hometown. — Du Fu, *On a Moonlit Night, Remembering My Brothers* The bright moon hangs in the autumn sky, its radiance wetting the dew. Startled crows have not settled, and fireflies fly into the curtain. — Meng Haoran, *Reflections under the Autumn Moon* Among the flowers, a pot of wine, drinking alone without a companion. Raising my cup to invite the moon, my shadow becomes the third person. The moon does not understand drinking, but my shadow follows me. Temporarily accompanied by the moon and my shadow, I enjoy the spring. I sing, and the moon lingers; I dance, and my shadow wanders. — Li Bai, *Drinking Alone under the Moon*
