And so it ends, before it begins,
evening falls on a summers' day,
crooked stones leading down to beach
a mirthful cup of wine.
Drink lovely the night
bathing fire in icy waters,
hanging on a star, floating in the lake,
covered by ribbons of golden light.
Waiting for the sun to rise,
the night's air pierces the blush,
leaving behind early morning pearls,
save for Venus disappearing with the light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
sir i love reading your poems I feel like I am there looking at it...