Luna,
What’s this?
Driving men mad,
Spreading your pale wings,
Wider and wider to frightening heights,
Reaching fever pitch screaming shaking pale lights.
Slowly you fade back into your faceless black nights
Then sliver of shade silver mind right
The waters still like all things,
In sanity men clad,
Waxing waning
Luna.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem