The moon how wan to-day
The nightingale how still
From her night song
In our garden lies.
The moon speaks not
And mute the lake
Its waters lap not the still shore
Nor in the grass doth any motion move.
The rill has stopped to gurgle with the night
Motionless the sheep drowse in their fold
And in the grass
Only the glow-worms shine and stay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem