Moonbeams
turning silhouettes silvery grey.
A surrealist landscape naturally mastered.
Moon's mirrored image reflected on water
illuminating the lake's tranquil state,
punctuated only by an old abandoned jetty.
Nothing stirs.
An expectation held in silence.
I gaze above at the billion bright stars.
Fearing I would stumble, I cautiously step forward.
I do not stumble.
For I find myself walking on moonbeams
over a slowly disappearing world
to a place cosseted by darkness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem