The moon will summon as a bell,
There's magic in the chanted spells;
Her groom awaits to claim His Bride,
To take His rights beside Her side;
A cloud of blackness shrouds the moon,
A sign the dancers take for doom;
For if the Bride's not sanctified
The Sun in Spring will be denied;
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem