The quiet moon above,
The wind cutting through the air,
The meadowlarks singing,
A breeze ruffling my hair.
The sun a brilliant scarlet,
Fleeing from the night,
Tomorrow morning it shall come again,
Bringing with it light.
I sit here in the grass,
Moon hanging in the sky,
I'm sure that without its beauty,
We would all surely die.
So I sit here all alone,
And it's for this time I will fight,
For the sweet, sweet blissfulness,
Of these warm sweet summer nights.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem