Out once on a midnight dreary,
my head, my bones too weary,
full of sorrows, my eyes were teary,
though the stars were shining merrily.
I gazed heavily at the heavens,
wondering, mesmerized in a way;
remembered suddenly this maiden,
who's a beauty, a flower of may.
Whose eyes, whose face so smiling,
like those stars that were shining;
the beauty that she was wearing,
could eclipse angel's hair falling.
though sometimes strained by sorrow,
she would just stoop down low;
thinking what is there in the morrow,
then everything would come in glow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem