On the Night of the Thirteenth of the Seventh Month, Drinking at the House of My Niece's Husband Jeong Yu (鄭柔), Watching the Moon and Making Linked Verses七月十三日。與全，朴兩君夜飮甥壻鄭柔家。翫月聯句。

I did not look to meet with such an evening, so why insist on waiting for the Harvest Moon? Tonight's mirror is not yet full, but it has opened out wide beyond last night's hook. The comet, to our wonder, has already faded, and the thin haze, to our joy, has only just lifted. The magpie starts up in alarm and flies to a tree, and a man, chanting clear and loud, leans on the upper storey. Where there is a window it is all like broad day, and only where there is no chink does it grow dim. The clouds race, and the moon seems to race along with them; the sky is clear, and they seem to flow together. I gaze at the white wheel and would draw it to me; I reach to scoop up the clear light, then give it up. Enjoying it long, we tip the cup again and again; chanting aloud, we draw the brush again and again. Where it meets a corner the light breaks easily, and when at midnight it climbs to the mid-sky the shadows will stay. I would borrow the silver bridge and climb up, and I pledge to trim it with the jade axe. The cassia tree is high — who could break off a branch? The elixir is hidden and is not left for the stealing. Chanting and singing of it is one and the same through a thousand ages, and its loveliness and beauty are shared by the whole world. The sound of the flute at Hanlong (韓隴) is hard to shut out, and the boat on the Shanxi (剡溪) is worth the rowing. Of fireflies there is no way to catch sight, and the cricket's cry is more sorrow than one can bear. We only keep busy at the game of passing the cup around, and there is no need to ask the hour of the night. On the night of the full moon of the eighth month, will you consent to come again?