While the night takes of her nightdress,
spreads her stars out blue-white and naked
and prepares herself for the caress
of the coming sun
I see the wind pulling
on your blonde curls of hair,
catch your fragrance
like lavender on the evening wind
and your lips
are pomegranate-red in the moonlight
that spreads her golden cloak
and you are prettier than just beautiful
and a mere moment does linger
when you walk right into my arms.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem