Night, I alone sit in the pavilion, the cold stone table, I knock gently with fingertips, a small voice. I closed my eyes, quietly enjoy the solitude, at the same time, also waiting for my friend. When the cicadas are no longer so loud, bamboo forest birds frightened to fly off, the bright light shines through, I know, friends came. Day and night, when I feel lonely, and he with me; In my sad sad, he would listen to me quietly, listening to my troubles, share with me the trouble, let I no longer worry, sad for anything. He has a clear - the name of the moon.
He in heaven, I on the ground, and when I looked up, his bright moonlight as a beacon, but not so dazzling, light up my eyes the winding road. Pointed out the direction for me.
I looked along the winding path, in the thick trees also could not prevent him a faint light, mottled broken shadow, little moon, dark white, lying on the ground.