On the pond, the motionless one

On the pond, the motionless one,

rests the moon's lovely gleam,

weaving its pale roses

into a green garland of reeds.

Deer wander there on the hill,

gazing up through the night;

often, winged things stir

dreamily in the tall reeds.

Weeping, I must lower my gaze;

through the depths of my soul pass

sweet thoughts of you,

like a quiet night prayer.