Classic Poem

I love the spring moon,
rippling flower-shadows in confusion!
Even with a thousand cash
such a moment would be hard to buy.
Just as it reaches the willow-tips
the heavenly road is calm;
earlier than anyone it marks the dusk.
It shines on song and music in tower and terrace;
the sounds seem fainter now.
It glitters on the swing hanging in the courtyard
sinking to silence with the night.
Penetrating fragrant paths,
truly it is spring color troubling men
so that good dreams are hard to form.