By the west eaves I rested from drafting edicts,
pines and bamboos wrapped in deep stillness.
Then the moon came up, a fresh breeze began to blow,
and suddenly it was like an evening in the mountains.
That was why I dreamt of the southwest,
dreamt I was on an outing to Hsien-yu Temple.
And when I woke and heard the sound of the palace water clock,
I still thought it was the trickling of a mountain stream.