Does old Sol whisper good night
As he sets off to slumber?
Ne'er a sound does he make
with all his blazing glory
That is the sound I must make with you my love
Our nights are vanished
True love is diminished
Blinded by circumstances less frightful
That lessen our lives
Silence must stand
Where fire once roared
As we force our hearts to say good night
With ne'er a sound
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem