Where are the ancient instruments
that first played the songs for men and gods?
where are the midnight dancers long ago enchanted
with fire and moonlight?
My heart is sad in silence
after every melody has ceased;
like King Saul, I an unable to find
comfort and peace of mind
in the absence of song.
On New Year Eves in past times,
soldiers kissed unknown girls
on star-touched streets while the voices
of Judy Garland or Frank Sinatra
serenaded a war-weary age.
If we were at a party tonight,
I would tentatively listen
to your every breath and sigh
as if it were my own private song
and I would not be lonely.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem