Oh, Dear Moon, how can it be
That thou art further than my Love from me
And still thy pleasant glow I see,
Still thy face shines brilliantly?
Thy surface is a pale, clear white,
Thy beams cause black streets to light,
Thy presence makes lover’s hearts’ ignite,
Still my Love is missing from the night.
The stars surround thee in the sky,
A shadow’s cast as birds fly by,
A glimmering tear falls from my eye
As “Still my Wife is gone, ” I cry!
Oh, Dear Moon, how can it be
That I can’t hear or feel or see
One who shines brighter than thee,
Though thou art further from me than she?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem