Dryad of the tangled forest,
Where do you hide your instruments?
You know the clouds see your nakedness,
And the moon, your coquetry.
But why should you sleep all alone-
Except, you do not sleep;
Up at any hour, playing away
Songs that the mortals cannot hear,
The forest holding its breath in awe:
Caught under your spell, not to break the rising silence..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem