The bright moon shines before my bed:
I wonder if it’s frost on the ground spread.
At the bright moon I look up,
And yearn for my old home as I lower my head.
Thoughts on a Quiet Night
The moon shines on my bed brightly,
So that I mistook it for frost on the ground.
I gaze at the moonlight with head uplifted;
Now my head droops, and my thoughts turn homeward.
Still Night’s Muse
Afront the bed the Luna beams bright,
Wearing a look of seemingly rime white.
Eyes upcast toward the Luna,
Eyes downcast, engenders my nostalgia.
Before the couch moonlight came.
I had thought it frost on the ground.
Looking up, I gazed on the moon,
And bowed my head with thoughts of home.
Looking at the Moon
Before my bed the moon shone brightly.
I thought it was frost.
I lifted my head and looked at the moon.
When I lowered my head I thought of home.
Quiet Night Thought
Before my bed the moonlight glitters
Like frost upon the ground.
I look up to the mountain moon,
Look down and think of home.
（Stephen Owen 译）
In the Quiet Night
The floor before my bed is bright:
Moonlight – like hoarfrost – in my room.
I lift my head and watch the moon.
I drop my head and think of home.
（Vikram Seth 译）
There were bright moonbeams in front of my bed
And I mistook them for frost on the ground.
I lifted my head and gazed at the bright moon;
I dropped my head again and thought of home.
（Peter Harris 译）
Thoughts in a Quite Night
I see the moonlight at my bed,
Which looks like white frost on the ground.
Fro th’ mountain moon, I raise my head,
And then lower it, homesickness-bound.
In front of my bed there is bright moonlight
I think there must be hoar frost on the ground;
I raise my head and gaze at the bright moon,
Lowering it I think of the old country.
（Soame Jenyns 译）