After the shower just now in the secluded mountains, out a tinted autumn the dusk brings.
The bright moon shines through the pines, the clear brook flows over the rocks.
Returning home from the bamboo groves come a gaggle of laundering lassies, while swaying lotus leaves are making way for homebound fishing boats.
Put that splendid spring aside, let us just take the mountains in autumn as our perfect adodes.
PS On Mid-Autumn night, I thought of the poem when I was in Guguan. But I forgot its title, and after three days I recalled it, finally.