I Walk Alone

In a river valley of pines, I walk alone with staff in hand;
    Standing still for a moment,
    Clouds rise around my tattered robes.
Beneath a window looking out on bamboo, I stretch out
        with a book for my pillow.
    When I awake,
    The moon shines in on the cold, cracked floor.

                                                                ---Hung Ying-ming---