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“Autumn Window: A Night of Wind and Rain The autumn flowers are dead, the leaves are sere; Lamp-light comes soon, the nights grow long again. Outside my window autumn’s signs appear More dismal in the wind and rustling rain. The rustling rain came in such swift downpour It startled me from autumn-dream-filled sleep. Now, in a muse, unable to sleep more, I watch the candle at my bedside weep. The candle weeps down to its socket low, And my heart weeps and desolation feels. Yet the same wind in other courts must blow; The sound of rain through other windows steals. The wind’s chill strikes through quilt and counterpane, The rain drums like a mad clock in my ears, All night, in whispering, monotone refrain, Companion to my own swift-coursing tears. The courtyard now with mist begins to fill, The bamboo’s drip persists without a pause. When will the wind cease and the rain be still, That with its weeping soaks my window’s gauze?” — Cao Xueqin