The moon-light fell on the earth stealthily like an incessant shower of rain. Trees of far-off places and the roofs of houses became whitewashed with light. It seemed to me that an unbodied heavenly girl descended on earth, with refreshing sleep in one hand, and a motley of dreams in the other. There was hardly any sound nearby. I sat unmoving. looking agape at nothing specifically, but only having a bird's eye view on everything around with a view to discerning an unexpressable beauty. I forgot about the bygone hours, about the morning that followed. Had I been a poet. I could have pictured the beauty of the night to some extent. But my words are domestic and powerless, my expressions are trite. I only could enjoy the heavenly beauty, sometimes by touching, sometimes by smelling, and sometimes by drinking the nectar that the huge cup of the night offered me, all these I did in my imagination.

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A moon-lit night is a special event to a humorous person, I will never forget the precision of the statement. as long as I will remember the night's short unwritten history.