This night of the cool bright moon,
summer night hazy with clouds,
the fresh, drenching, red dew falls
from unbounded, solemn skies.
Among the highest branches
young insects, happy spirits,
creep through the leaves’ cool shadows—
Ah, such waves of gladness!
Branching, spreading, ascending,
even thorn vines are bathed
in the moon’s oil-like vapor.
Ah, such beauty exiles sleep!
As curving grass stems dance
and the rushes sing their soft song,
O shape into words the ages
held in the light sifting down!
The houses are quiet with sleep
as the wind from the fields of rice
leaves a fragrance...