The hunter of moon rise so highly
Herd cloud amain,
The dark night is waiting
To lure a sweet slowly.
The cry of the windows
Preserve by the fresh.
Night flows into the heart of bliss
Flower of honey totally light
With immovable sweetness.
Precious touches flow like an ink
To the magic PEN
Covers with slowly unaware.
Seraph is at the edges
With cupid arrow in Her hand,
Souls far from satanic words
And the hearts made of blue.
I'm still waiting of one more night
When the eyes will be equal
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem