The night bethought itself to be
A full rejected lover of the languid moon
At which a tear it shed, a giant tear
That fell down the mantle of the skies
Like a clean river burning fresh and raw
At which in going down the immense skies
It cooler grew and thawed to a full frost
And thus become a star that shines
When the east wind over the gardens blows.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem