Western clouds set the crimson tent for suns rest,
Lonely eve pulls sighing curtain of losing day,
Foggy stillness steals the last field green
In hasty strides for another lonely night.
Passing owl shrills noisy flap,
Days last bird completes its final round
Before dropping of dews silent fall.
Mine self shooting tremble feelings,
Swoon over Moonlit marvel native.
Silence guards the nights palace, mists built,
That wil dull the trimming visions
Overlooking drowsy hamlets.
Loud dogs, village faithful rend ghostly calls,
To space thristy soul in natures fountain.
Starry lamps glow bright
For all, time for natures prayer has come.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Unlike Rhyme 7 and 8, this one I can make sense of. You've created beautiful imagery with each line of this poem. Nicely done!