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 cinnamon Spreading in my old garden . . . All light, All ten thousand miles at once in its light!SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
The script ran 0.001 seconds.