Lily of the woods
Burnt before dusk
When the monk
Said his vespers.
The night was round bellied
And
Wore a cassock of blue
Vesper lined with dusk of
Red.
It was winter and
It was about seven.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem focuses entirely on imagery. And the imagery - a monk praying alone in a natural setting - suggests a bleak physical landscape which itself suggests the deeply sad interior landscape. Of course, you don't say any of this, you create a poignant scene and let our poetic intuition complete the poem according to our individual natures and needs. I am a reader who responds very strongly to such a poem which trusts its imagery to carry the meaning. I find such a POEM is liberating and stimulating, even if the subject matter and tone are sad.