Passing One Night in an Old Woman's Hut at the Foot of Mount Five Pines
- Poetry of Li Bai (Li Po)

I lodge under the five pine trees,

Lonely,I feel not quite at ease.

Peasants work hard in autumn old:

Husking rice at night,the maid's cold.

Wild rice is offered on her knees;

The plate in moonlight seems to freeze.

I'm overwhelmed with gratitude.

Do I deserve the hard-earned food?