In the gold drear of the heavens
Spirits flew serenely and mute
Singing undertones silently.
O moon of twilight colors
On seeing this; the humans sleep
See, the village streets are still
And gurgles low a water-mill.
Night and its retinue will hold
Unobstructed their winter night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem