"In the middle of the night, I lay there and couldn't hear any insects. The moon entered my door with her pure light" comes from the ancient poem "Rock" written by Han Yu, a poet in the Tang Dynasty. The full text of this ancient poem is as follows:
The towering and steep rocks, narrow mountain roads like sheep intestines, and the dusk when bats are flying come to this temple.
When I climbed the steps of the temple and sat down, there was a field soaked in rain. The rain made the branches and leaves of banana rough and the mountain was more beautiful.
Monks told me that the ancient city walls were magnificent, lit by torches and looked sticky.
Make my bed and prepare rice soup. The food is rough, but it is enough to fill my stomach.
It's late at night, sleep quietly, the white stopped rumbling, the moon climbed the mountain, and the brightness entered the doors and windows.
At dawn, I left alone, unable to see the way in and out of the fog, and I groped my way up and down.
The mountains are bright red, Jianshui River is green, shiny and watery, and pine and oak trees are densely surrounded and lush.
I met a stream on the road, stepped barefoot at the foot of a stone, and the sound of running water blew up my clothes.
These things can make life happy in themselves, and you must become a man.
Why, how can I go back to my hometown when I am old?