The clouds are low,
They spread far and wide.
The moonlight glow
Is lost deep inside.
Night shadows play
Taking every form.
The sky is grey,
It’ll surely storm.
I know I ought to find shelter fast
But my feet stay planted in contrast.
The grass is damp
Beneath my park bench.
A low-lit lamp
Glows gold like a finch.
The nearby trees
Flutter to and fro.
A gentle breeze
Has begun to flow.
She’s finally arrived, my dearest friend.
I’ll make my confessions to the summer wind.
I whisper truth
From within my soul.
I speak of youth
That love and life stole.
I talk freely
To a constant ear;
My heart’s decree
She will always hear.
I reveal it all, holding nothing back
And watch my words float into the black.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem