With every star that
Lighted be
Heavens one mark
Gain
And three for night.
A high red steeple tower
Lured
Thin and taut into the
Heavens
A satin robe as the magic
Carpet flew
And magic all around
Turned, turned and grew
And
In the night, that night
Smoked incense, witches’ brew.
With every star that
Lighted be
Heavens one mark
Gain
And three for night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem