The pointed breasts of the
moon
in their sexual lust to-night
cared not
for the storm and lustful tempest
cared not
for the whirling of gales and of
clouds
cared not
for the gaunt blanch face of the
town
no, cared not,
cared not,
the pointed breasts of the
moon
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem