Nehal Rajvanshi
Basant rtu or Spring is one of the most delightful seasons. Spring evenings carry a distinct presence. The air is redolent with fragrance, the light softens, and the sky clears into an expanse where the Moon can be seen with unusual clarity. In this season of renewal, Moonlight seems to linger a little longer, resting on terraces, trees, flowers and open fields. It becomes part of the atmosphere itself, steady, luminous, and deeply familiar.
Across cultures and centuries, this meeting of Spring and Moon has drawn poets, artists, and thinkers into reflection. In this edition of Moon Rhythms, we share a few verses that are especially beautiful to read. Many of these come from different languages and cultural literary traditions, and are presented here in translation. Each literary tradition carries its own structure, metre, and length, which impact how a moment is observed and expressed.
In Asian culture and understanding, the Moon in Spring holds special reverence and admiration.
Haiku: A Japanese poetic form of three lines, following a 5–7–5 syllabic structure, often describing nature, specific moments and vivid imagery.
Waka: A classical Japanese poetic form of five lines following a 5–7–5–7–7 syllabic structure, used to reflect on nature, emotion, and seasons.
Kālidāsa — Ritusamhāram
c. 4th–5th century CE · India
The time of dusk, delightful
with the spreading moonlight;
the air redolent with pleasing scents;
the cooing of male cuckoos;
the maddened buzz of bees in swarms;
and the cups of wine at night—
all these are medicines prescribed
by the warrior armed with flowers.
Ariwara no Narihira — Waka
9th century CE · Japan
Is this not that moon?
And Spring: is as the Spring of old
Is it not?
Only this body of mine
Is as it ever was…
Li Bai — Drinking Alone with the Moon
8th century CE · China (Tang Dynasty)
With a jar of wine I sit by the flowering trees.
I drink alone, and where are my friends?
Ah, the moon above looks down on me;
I call and lift my cup to his brightness.
And see, there goes my shadow before me.
Ho! We’re a party of three, I say,—
Though the poor moon can’t drink,
And my shadow but dances around me,
We’re all friends to-night,
The drinker, the moon and the shadow.
Let our revelry be suited to the spring!
I sing, the wild moon wanders the sky.
I dance, my shadow goes tumbling about.
While we’re awake, let us join in carousal;
Only sweet drunkenness shall ever part us.
Let us pledge a friendship no mortals know,
And often hail each other at evening
Far across the vast and vaporous space!
Yosa Buson — Haiku
18th century CE · Japan
In pale moonlight
the wisteria’s scent
comes from far away.
Saigyō Hōshi — Waka
12th century CE · Japan
Let me die in spring
under the blossoming trees,
let it be around
that full moon of
Kisaragi month.
Su Shi (Su Dongpo) — Spring Night
11th century CE · China (Song Dynasty)
A spring night’s moment is worth a thousand pieces of gold;
flowers have their fragrance, the moon its shadow.
From the terrace comes the faint sound of flutes and song;
deep in the courtyard, the swing hangs still.
Zhang Ruoxu — A Moonlit Night on the Spring River
Early 8th century CE · China (Tang Dynasty)
In spring the river rises as high as the sea,
And with the river’s rise the moon uprises bright.
She follows the rolling waves for ten thousand li,
And where the river flows, there overflows her light.
The river winds around the fragrant islet where
The blooming flowers in her light all look like snow.
You cannot tell her beams from hoar frost in the air,
Nor from white sand upon Farewell Beach below.
No dust has stained the water blending with the skies;
A lonely wheel like moon shines brilliant far and wide.
Who by the riverside first saw the moon arise?
When did the moon first see a man by riverside?
Ah, generations have come and pasted away;
From year to year the moons look alike, old and new.
We do not know tonight for whom she sheds her ray,
But hear the river say to its water adieu.
Away, away is sailing a single cloud white;
On Farewell Beach pine away maples green.
Where is the wanderer sailing his boat tonight?
Who, pining away, on the moonlit rails would learn?
Alas! The moon is lingering over the tower;
It should have seen the dressing table of the fair.
She rolls the curtain up and light comes in her bower;
She washes but can’t wash away the moonbeams there.
She sees the moon, but her beloved is out of sight;
She’d follow it to shine on her beloved one’s face.
But message-bearing swans can’t fly out of moonlight,
Nor can letter-sending fish leap out of their place.
Last night he dreamed that falling flowers would not stay.
Alas! He can’t go home, although half spring has gone.
The running water bearing spring will pass away;
The moon declining over the pool will sink anon.
The moon declining sinks into a heavy mist;
It’s a long way between southern rivers and eastern seas.
How many can go home by moonlight who are missed?
The sinking moon sheds yearning o’er riverside trees.
Kahlil Gibran — Excerpt from Laughter and Tears
1906 · Lebanon
As the Sun withdrew his rays from the garden, and the moon threw cushioned beams upon the flowers, I sat under the trees pondering upon the phenomena of the atmosphere, looking through the branches at the strewn stars which glittered like chips of silver upon a blue carpet; and I could hear from a distance the agitated murmur of the rivulet singing its way briskly into the valley.
Across all these voices, the Moon in Spring remains something to be experienced, not interpreted.
This is a beautiful reminder to spend some time outdoors in the evening. Sit quietly for a while, or take a slow walk under the open sky. Let the breeze move around you, let the scents of the season gather, and allow the Moon to settle into your evening, quietly, as it always has.