Classic Poem

I've followed the billowing dust as a traveler too long;
beautiful places I've been to before—I seem to see them
for the first time now.
Floating up from the brazier—threads of incense;
beckoning beside the bridge—a blue wine-shop banner.
I've given up the company of ministers, left the ocean
of officialdom;
now I meet drunken friends, and visit Buddhist halls.
At night I sit and meditate, without going to sleep,
when a sound as of thunder is heard: a star,
falling from the sky!