The last full moon of summer has gone, having escaped early veils of cloud to glide in splendid isolation half the night. I watched it fragment among pine branches and escape the sky before the morning grew too bright. It's dying fire felt like the true end of summer, though the equinox remains days away. Night's latter hours grew chill, but I remained outdoors to see the moon depart. There'll be another next month, but it won't be the same. Autumn's moons are apt to be shrouded, and the nights uncomfortably cold, and often rainy. I don't know when I'll get another chance to watch a full moon in clear sky. It was worth a bit of chill.
by Tu Fu
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!