The moon is clear in transparent sky,
And clouds close the stars silver dust.
Cool air fills my bosom in the night
And I feel, that my love is passing by.
Eternal and exciting nature might
To sing a song of sudden blast
Of wind, and I recall another
Country's violet sky, I loved and lost,
The paradise I never shall attain.
Inside me's the cruel winter frost,
And heat of life'll never come again.
Oh, farewell, my lovely little moon
Cheese coloured like gold of the night.
I don't believe, that I'll see you soon.
I don't believe, you are as ever bright.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (The Night by Alan Ingranazzio )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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