How quiet midnight love,
How my heart is to thee
How warm are the winds the where the ravens fly
Where all the changing of moonlight love,
Pales in the shades of your fading eyes.
How loud is your heart calling love,
How close is the Darkness to your breast
How hectic and painful are the rivers of love
Drawn out through your dying wrist.
And love, what a heat your frail skin hides,
As pure as blood and as sweet as death
And in the darkness of the Red Moon
Rides the foxfire of your dying breat
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem