
thin moon crescent
shines brightly on a
cold, winter night.

thin moon crescent
shines brightly on a
cold, winter night.

clouds dance around
the gibbous moon’s bright orb,
one warm winter night.

the moon is hazy;
whether it’s the clouds or
my mind, I can’t say.
A pot of wine, under blossoms. I drink alone, no friends in sight. I raise a cup to lustrous Moon: Me, Moon, and Shadow will make three. But Moon is a teetotaler. And Shadow just skulks at my feet. Still, Moon & Shadow are my chums. We need a bash before Spring's end. But my singing makes Moon recoil. And Shadow flops hard when I dance. At first, we have a grand old time, But we part ways when I drift off. We should keep this epic friendship rolling, and meet again in the River of Stars.
NOTE: I produced this “translation” / arrangement, using translations by Arthur Waley, Ezra Pound, and that of “The Anchor Book of Chinese Poetry” [ed. by Tony Barnstone and Chou Ping] to get varied takes on the source poem.
How much would you pay to go to the moon?
Not one thin dime. I have no pressing need to go to a place without breathable quantities of oxygen for longer than I can hold my breath. If complex technology is required every millisecond to stay alive… well, I know where I’m not wanted.
I’ll leave it to the billionaires who have enough spare change lying around to fund personal space programs.
I’ll stick to gazing at it admiringly from afar.

full moon
over Fishtail Mountain-
breath swirls in cold air.

the moon rises
above the city.
expect lunatics!