The moon smiles upon my bed.
I consider frost and ice,
and raising my head, the bright sky.
Lying back, I think of home.

Once again, I’ve attempted to shiver myself into a timeless piece. I can only hope that my version does not offend.

The literal translation from Chinese-Poetry.com follows:

Bed before bright moon shine
Think be ground on frost
Raise head view bright moon
Lower head think home