How strange it is
to lie in utter darkness,
stealth like,
a nipple to the shroud.
And some would say, it is
a lovers smile
aroused by the tepid motion
of a clouds slow caress.
But if I that moon,
that quisling to the night,
I'd lift the mantle, the widows veil,
and move towards a kiss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love the moon and i really like your poem.