Bright light travelled on a long way
Night moon followed its hoof prints on clay
Right from far end of the curve saw its last ray
White dressed grey, from that day
Height of the seasons came to stay
Fight against time is in play
Knight in shining armour is at bay
Quiet as the grave is my gay
Blight on the land made to waif and stray
Tight as a drum I still hold and pray
Might is right, so cry and say
Fright me not, else there will be hell to pay
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem