Isolate and full, the moon
Floats over the house by the river.
Into the night the cold water rushes away beyond the gate.
The bright gold spilled on the river is never still.
The brilliance of my quilt is greater than precious silk.
The circle without blemish.
The empty mountain without sound.
The moon hangs in the vacant, wide constellations.
Pine cones drop in the old garden.
The senna trees bloom.
The same clear glory extends for ten thousand miles.

translated by Kenneth Rexroth