To be painted like genuine moonlight,
That spill'd from thine eyes in generous flow;
O Come, sweeping shadow, on t'ward the night!
Back'd by thy sainted sky of scarlet glow;
Rise quick, my feathers, and tempest shall part!
While violet clouds now ascend from the dark;
If Sun, or Moon! should so hasten thine heart,
Then the skies I'll climb, as thine heav'nly lark;
My fingers sing on, with celestial voice,
To calm the fury of life's raging throat;
As through sin I'm condemn'd, and not by choice,
Then life shall take thee, if honor'd thy quote;
By infernal talent, if thee is awe'd,
Do thy dare claim angel, greater than God?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
another wonderful poem from you darling