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Tankas

1

High on the summit
the whole garden is moon,
golden moon.
Preciouser is the rub
of your mouth in the dark.


2

The voice of a bird
the shadows abscond with
has hushed.
You walk your garden.
Something, I know, you miss.


3

The alien goblet,
the sword once a sword
in other hands,
the street moon,
say, not enough?


4

Under the moon
a gold-and-dark tiger
looks at its claws.
Not knowing at dawn
they destroyed someone.


5

Sad the rain
on marble falls,
sad to be earth.
Sad not being days
of men, dream, dawn.


6

Not to have fallen
like the rest of my blood,
in battle.
At night in vain to be
the syllable counter.