Till the dark fades, I ponder thee-
leaving this dream for another.
But lest I know the truth, I humble thee;
nae be I fall to other.
But dark as this night soon sunder,
wayward bound, I wait for thee.
Fall onto the moonlight plunder;
clinching my voice of thee.
Robbing my voice, O' Nightingale;
lost but naught by thee.
By if silent dost prevail,
I humbled lost to thee.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem