The stars above the turquoise trees
Exude with grace felicities.
The misty, rustic, leafy lane
Is caressed by the hush of the autumn rain.
Let us walk in the boon of the balmy refrain
That clings to the branches, the boughs, and the grass.
And when the fervor of your kisses pass,
I shall rest upon your bosom and mane,
Whilst you slumber in a tranquil, solemn peace,
Beneath the willows’ florid fleece,
Dreaming of the azure, puckering pond
That weds the woods with its every rippling blond,
Watery, poignant, lapping crease,
Sighing to the fair beyond.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem