October evening besets on topping hill
Dividing the cluster of hilly heads in twin shapes
One in foggy spell another of lighting face with cloudy embrace.
Behind the cloudy veil lies the snowy peaks
Overfacing the chill church spire old and huge.
Limping darkness with shorter day and lengthy night
Strode over hill top from spacious river dale,
Rushing cold from western hills give the taste of snowy dream,
Lonely way leads to yonder pine forest.
Frosty silence embraces each passerby with brooding sense
Everything over roadside appear gloomy
Ere the burking of hill top dogs.
This is the hour, this is special hour
That teaches us how sweet the pensiveness can flower,
Estranged sister of boisterous city wench
Nestling ever on silences rocky cradle.
This is the time, a real and actual time
To feel the snowy presence of condensed icy love
Of earthly pleasures of earthly beloved.
Therefore peck a hole on softer darkling fold
For a fair company of night roving dryards
The peace of hill top particular at twilight care
Like peerless strain of Apollos lyre
Forever entice one to scale this hill top road
Ere clumsy night force a drowsy separation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
real and actual time for love..