With night-hued shadows dance the silver strips
Of lovely Mistress Moon's visage ashine.
The crickets sing the fairness of her lips,
Their strings lay praise in rows out line by line.
The hushed breeze that sunlessness made cool
E'er lightly strokes the trees with loving care.
The father of the world prepares their beds of mool
And paths them soundlessly into his ware.
So thus the dark shall shroud unwary eyes
And dye their sight the shade of Death's best suit,
In doing once brought end to mankind's lies,
By snipping specious sages at their root.
The deed was swift, no sleeping beast did hear—
The wilder of the night twitch'd not an ear.
One father - the sky, one mother- the earth, and we are all here.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your ability to paint a particular moment of nature is unmatched. Loved reading it. I can feel the thrill of this narrative. Thanks, Dear Poet.
Thank you too! It helps that I am acquainted with the workings of Chinese poetry, which by nature is very image-oriented.