Author Jia Dao In the middle of the night, I suddenly rise; draw water from the high falls. The forest holds (as in a mouth) white dew; the clear sky: stars. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Reviews Post review No reviews yet. Log in or register to post comments