August 19^th, 2026

The water’s breath mingles with reflected mountains;
Autumn has come to the vast sky.
It's a joy to see temples hidden deep in the forest,
Regret the broken silence when
My boat moves from the shore.
Sparse reeds are snapping,
Though it isn’t cold yet;
A rainbow’s fragment arches in the setting sun.
Which way now to my little hut?
The fisherman’s songs bring thoughts of home.

Lin Pu (967-1028)