Fairytale Of The Moon Poem by Emdad Shah Emdad

by Emdad Shah

Far away in a fairytale land so deep
Where clouds and mountains together sleep
Lies the kingdom of the moon
Where moonlit fairies weave a tune
And the ancient crone spins wool all day
With horned white horns not far away.

In those fairies' hair do the star-blooms gleam
They dance to the song in a trembling dream
With the soft, milk-moonlight's glowing ray
And a chain of stars to lead the way
They gather diamond dust in a silver bowl
Where the dreaming child loses his way and soul.

Across the blue mist, past the edge of the sky
In a peacock boat does the small heart fly
With the silver sound of the thunder's chime
To the fairytale town of a forgotten time—
A realm of white snow and a tireless breeze
Where milk-white fairies slumber at ease.

The river of heaven flows slow on the moon
And celestial maidens dance round it soon
In a land of white marble, serene and deep
Like aunts who come softly to lull us to sleep
Yet the boy has wings like a magical steed
To fly like a white shell, wherever they lead.

There mountains rise up of a pale, white gold
And whispering leaves sing a song untold
On the back of his stallion, enchanted and grand
The boy rides away through the dream-woven land
With a garment of light and dark flowing hair
To the silvery moon where his horses dance there.

All the white autumn clouds drift lazily by
While a white polar bear dreams under the sky
And the bag-crone spins as she wanders the street
With a white fox stepping on silent feet
While blue fairies circle the moon in their play
And white jasmine and kash-flowers blossom away.

White egrets are catching blue fish in the streams
And white snow falls softly through all of the dreams
Like the foam of the sea where the white billows toss
Like chalk is the flute where the gentle winds cross
And white blossoms play in the grass as they pass
With the scent of fresh milk in the dew-laden grass.

A calm sea of milk gently ripples along
Where pictures are painted in sleep's quiet song
The ogres are sleeping, entranced and bound
As the prince rides his steed o'er the enchanted ground
With the wand of pure gold to the cloud-shrouded dome
He'll awaken the flower-maids and lead them back home.

On a couch made of gold does the silver wand weave
While the boy chases dreams that the moonleaves leave
For the moon-princess calls him by name from afar
With a sweet invitation more bright than a star
And blue fairies drift on the clouds, crying
'Come, To the land of the moon where the flyers call home.'

There stands a great house made of silver so bright
Where fleet cloud-canoes anchor in deepening night
And the milk-river ripples with crystalline gleam
In the wild, tossing wind of a magical dream
A river of moon-mist, of porridge and sweet
In a silver-built kingdom where all fancies meet.

Sleep falls on his eyes as the night whispers low
And he reaches out hands where the starlight doth go
No lessons to trouble, no tasks to obey
In the village of slumber where children can play
On the edge of the blue sky, a silvery town
In a raft made of clouds where the dream-