Of the red moon a midnight gleam...
anticipation of a bird with rosy wings,
news of the branch that reached the peaks
of coniferous crown above large fields.
And in the morning She leaves for her rest
away from Night's explicit claims.
The more illustrious more round she becomes!
the sadder - in the bedroom - the more light!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem