It’s a low lingering moan persisting through the night outside these walls
An ode to the memory of bones – the mortal lease on life – tuned to the limitless time.
It moves its chorus through the air just now, chilling and thrilling, shaking the moon drenched limb,
Swaying the grass with graceful hum and then falling with the quiet of the dark.
It’s the song of a lonely shadow in the trees churning just in sight
Sweeping and crooning just inside the dim light
Calling for eyes that can see its ballad sifting down through the leaves
And it’s heard and it’s seen as it drones its willow branch dream.
There it has been, lofty and endless as the wind,
Its eerie eyes cast down, barely catching the dim light
Its sounds speaking its loss without end,
That low lingering moan traversing through the night
Telling the story of time, the lost friend,
And giving heart to the memory of life
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem