The moon is calling me tonight.
I hear its rings: its desperate plight,
in the wind's fading howls,
which echoes the passing growls
of a dog with broken legs.
With whimpering, from sorrow it begs
to see no more the pain it sees
when looking down from over trees.
With home in heaven it sees all,
all mother's worries, and children's fall,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem