The sound of darkness
is broken by light hearted laughter.
Crowd gathers
to applaud
the cavalcade of stars
drawn by mystics
across heaven's majestic canvas.
That, my dearest, is a sight
where only dreams -
carried on a breath of wind -
are picked
by the dreamcatcher's web
under the presence of a crescent moon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem