I chased your smile as the stars slid past
then caught you laughing on the sleeping grass,
the brilliance of the moon dove in your eyes
I was lost in the beauty of the closing skies;
the way you dressed and held your pretty head
in fancy bows and ribbons made of red.
I studied diligence and turned to ask
who I caught laughing as the stars slid past,
you did not answer with a voice or name
you opened your eyes and the moonlight came;
the way you smiled and held your pretty head
in fancy bows and ribbons made of red.
When I awoke the stars were fading fast
your name was written on the dying grass.
I called to wake you in the sunlit skies
but the moon was gone and you closed your eyes;
the way you looked and held your pretty head
in fancy bows and ribbons made of red.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a neat poem with metre and rhyme taken care of.