The full moon hangs suspended in the sky.
Its mirror image in the lake below.
A rising trout send ripples tinged with gold
racing madly towards the reed fringed shore.
A hunting heron standing motionless.
A silhouette against the evening sky,
the bull frogs boom their chorus ceaselessly.
The peasant farmer treads his homeward way.
The lake reflects the moon: The heron waits
Quite soon a frog will move then disappear.
The trout will rise again to catch a fly
to satisfy the herons appetite.
The silence of the night is broken by,
the evening breeze which whistles through the trees.
My hours of leisure have flown quickly past,
the temple bell is calling me to come and pray.