autumn moonlight

As if blossoms have
fallen from the harvest moon—
the cotton field.

Matsuo Bashō

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the style of the unchanging

The harvest moon
and the fog at the mountain foot—
mists over the field.

Matsuo Bashō

delirio

Fragmented evening,
field in silence.
Bee-eaters in flight,
a sigh.
Backcloth of blue and white
deliriums.
The landscape opens
its arms wide.
All too much,
Dear God!

Federico Garcia Lorca