The trees in the moonlight

The trees in the moonlight are silent,

and the trees in the pond are still.

If there is malice,

it is not here by the pond in the moonlight.

Neither violence

nor hatred

nor greed.

There are no prejudices here,
but, sadness, oh my God,
sadness fills the air with the voices of thousands
whose throats have been slit,

here, where the trees are silent in the moonlight

by the pond.