Poems of Meng Jiao
Spending the Night in Empty Descendant Temple, for Master Tan
Sitting at night, sound of cold bamboo
And two or three wise voices.
By lamplight, copying sutras
Left by the young master, my friend.
Snow melts off the eaves in clear droplets.
Fragrant steam rises from the tea bowl.
Chime ring, whirlwinds stir the snow,
All sounding like the rivers of Chu.
The daily grind is not far off.
Inspiration is replaced by empty sadness.
Tomorrow I'll return, walking with my cane,
Leaving this seclusion that we both put off.
This, like the last poem, appears to be a much later poem. It also seems that at some time late in his life, Meng Jiao had some kind of difficulty with one of his legs and began using a cane. The cane appears in this poem and the last as well.
Master Tan could be Duke Tan. But Meng Jiao uses 公 with proper names fairly often. He probably knows more "masters" than he does "dukes." And dukes seem more like Spring and Autumn or Warring States than Tang anyway.