When the moon shines over the park trees,
Travelling majesty in shadowy nights,
carressing the mid-summer's breeze delight,
Flirting fondly with a lonesome soul's flight
Breathing ryhmes, a poet shall dance to the rite;
Untill his soul, words, and the night whirl, alike.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is absolutly gorgeous! It speaks to poets everywhere.