Preceeded by her corps de ballet,
The moon makes graceful entrance on the stage of night;
She pirouettes and peeps across the arc of heaven
Searching for her lover;
Unsuccessful, sorrowfully she exits.
Her lover, then, he too searching for his lost beloved,
Bounding leaps and rends the curtains of the day;
Scours the skies to no avail
Before making flamboyant departure
From the ramparts of the dark.
Is there a future for these thwarted lovers
Never ordained to meet?
Does no-one pity them?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem