Hundreds of cold sparrows dive into the empty courtyard,
   cluster on plum branches and speak of sun after rain at dusk.
 They choose to gather en masse and kill me with noise.
 Suddenly startled, they disperse. Then, soundlessness.

NOTE: This translation from: Barnstone, Tony & Chou Ping. 2005. The Anchor Book of Chinese Poetry. New York: Random House. p.422.