Across the dimly lighted room
The violin drew wefts of sound,
Airily they wove and wound
And glimmered gold against the gloom.
I watched the music turn to light,
But at the pausing of the bow,
The web was broken and the glow
Was drowned within the wave of night.
This poem is not my favorite by Sara Teasdale but is one of my top ten. My favorite so far is A Ballad of Two Knights.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'Wefts of sound.' I find this metaphor quite inventive, making a meaningful union. And the rhyme scheme is well-made and brings to the poem a rich value. Well-done!