Classic Poem

Cold air drains down from the peaks.
Frost lies all around my cabin
The trees are bare Weak sunlight
Shines in my window. The pond
Is full and still. The water
Is motionless. I watch the
Gibbons gather fallen fruit
All night I hear the deer stamping
In the dry leaves. My old harp
Soothes all my trouble away.
The clear voice of the waterfall
In the night accompanies my playing.