Full Moon

Above the tower — a lone, twice-sized moon.

On the cold river passing night-filled homes,

It scatters restless gold across the waves.

On mats, it shines richer than silken gauze.

Empty peaks, silence: among sparse stars,

Not yet flawed, it drifts.

Pine and

Spreading in my old garden . . .

All light,

All ten thousand miles at once in its light!

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