Harvest moon: around the pond I wander and the night is gone.
Collecting all The rains of May The swift Mogami River.
Twilight whippoorwill... Whistle on, sweet deepener Of dark loneliness
Just washed, How chill The white leeks!
When composing a verse let there not be a hair's breath separating your mind from what you write; composition of a poem must be done in an instant, like a woodcutter felling a huge tree or a swordsman leaping at a dangerous enemy.
The moon is brighter since the barn burned.