天色噙雨立疏枝，
谁把晶珠缀墨丝？
半壁横斜凝泪影，
一窗澄澈挂冰姿。
偶从枯寂窥灵动，
渐信空无亦生奇。
正是日光初至处，
万千星子欲垂时。
Winter Window, Watching a Maple
The sky’s hue holds rain, bare branches stand still;
who strung these crystal beads on threads of ink?
Across half the wall, slanted, tear-bright glints congeal;
within one clear pane, an icy poise hangs still.
From barrenness, a flicker stirs the eye;
I slowly trust that emptiness can breed wonder.
Where sunlight has just begun to reach,
countless star-points hover, on the verge of falling.
深冬雨后，窗外高枫黑枝交错，晶珠悬挂其上。久视之，目光渐被雨珠牵引，枝影退为线条。
After a winter rain, black branches of a tall maple cross outside my office window, beads of water hanging from them. With time, the eye begins to follow the droplets first, while the branches recede into mere lines.